Be Still My Soul

The Story

        I woke up one morning this week, early, and began reflecting on what has happened the last few weeks, and really what had happened the last few years.  I still don't understand why, I still have fear of what may happen next, or mostly what won't happen next.  And maybe just to be therapeutic for myself, I thought I should write it down, all of it. Perhaps it will be beneficial to  someone else one day. But, for today, I hope it will benefit  me.  Also, I must warn the reader, several parts of the story are graphic, well medically graphic, I'm just telling it how it happened. You have been warned. :)  (and ps, I am not a professional blogger, not sure why all my fonts are different, sorry, and I know there are still some typos)

   The first story, which may be unremarkable medically, was actually a very remarkable story to me.  When I got pregnant with my first child, Porter,  Thomas and I had been married for 3 years.  We had just bought a house, we had an amazing dog, Smeagol.   He worked and I worked (Thomas, not the dog ;) ). Simple life.  I have always wanted to be a Mother, always.  There is a video my Mom took of me when I was about 4 years old, back in the day where you couldn't own a video camera, unless you were rich, where you had to actually rent one.  And she had rented it, and probably filmed us 24/7, until the rental was up.  There is a particular video, where I have just one eyelid shaded with bright blue eye shadow, it was quite popular in the 80s, to only shade one eye.....kidding.  I must have been too busy to shade the other.  I was brushing the tails of my one of my ponies from my collection of "My Little Pony" figurines.  As I did, my Mom was asking me several questions, and was videotaping my response.  She asked, in her ever precious British accent, "What are you going to be when you grow up Sarrah?"  And my answer, without any hesitation, "A Mommy".  It is what I have always wanted to be, a Mommy.  Her follow up question, "Well, what does a Mommy do?"  "She washes the dishes and scrubs the floor".  Ha ha! So true, but not even close to just what a Mommy does.  My desire to be a Mother, no, to be a 'Mommy' started so young.  And continued all my life.  I remember being an awkward, ugly teenager, and worrying that I would never get married, that I would never have children.  That's what happens when you have 5 brothers who constantly call you ugly and fat, simply because they know that is what hurts the most. (Of course I wasn't blameless, I was rather mean to them too.  I have since forgiven them, and I hope they have forgiven me.)  When I was 16 years old, I got my Patriarchal Blessing, and all I cared about was knowing if I would get married.  Sure enough, in the blessing, I was told I would, in fact, get married.  And it continued on to tell me that I would have 'Spirit children' of our Heavenly Father.  I was a little confused by the wording "Spirit children"  and thought that maybe that meant I wouldn't be able to have any children, except for maybe after I died.  However, after further study, I realized that it meant I would have actual children, but that they were Spirits sent from my Heavenly Father.  I was 16, and maybe not the sharpest knife in the drawer,  or at least my spiritual knowledge was a little low.  Either way, I learned the two greatest things from that blessing, that I would be a wife, and that I would be a Mommy.

          So there we were, 3 years into our marriage, and we decided to throw away the birth control pills and get pregnant.  I was so excited and nervous.  My older sister had 3 kids at this point (well she was pregnant with the third), and was only 4 years older than me.  I had to get busy to catch up. :)   I actually remember the day we conceived, at least I think it may have been the day, because Thomas had said "That, could have got you pregnant"  Classy huh?? Ha ha ha! He would kill me for including that, but it is part of the story.  And we were pregnant.  Just like that.  We tried, and it happened, just like that, no months of trying, just blamo.

  Everything was normal.  I went in at 10 weeks, everything looked great.  I did nearly pass out when they took my blood, but other than that, it was all normal.  It took forever for me to show. And when I finally did, I wore that pregnant belly proudly.  I was convinced we were having a girl, but when I found out it was a boy, I was just as happy.  It felt right.  It was Porter.  I couldn't wait to hold him, to see him, to smell him.  He was due July 6.  Thomas worked the night shift and I had quit my job, mostly because my boss was a huge jerk, but that is a whole different story for another day.  But Thomas had worked the night of June 29 to the morning of June 30.  He came home early on the 30th and went straight to bed.  I woke up after a while and went downstairs to read or just rest on the guest bed, so not to disturb Thomas.  I noticed a dull ache in my back, and thought maybe we could possible have a baby that day, just maybe. But, I wasn't sure. This was my first. I had decided to make a bunch of frozen cookie dough, so I would have cookies at the ready when I needed them after Porter was born.  I like my sweets, it's a problem.  As the day progressed, I started having contractions.  But I am not one to run right to the hospital.  I am not going to go there just to get sent home.  I am the kind of gal who would have the baby in the car, because I am going to be 100% sure that I am in labor.  So, I didn't wake Thomas up, he had a long night and needed rest, especially if we were going to have a baby.  The contractions continued all day long, coming and going, spacing out differently.  Finally, I couldn't wait anymore, because I was excited that this might happen.  So, it was around 5pm and I went in to tell Thomas, "We might be having a baby today"  He was groggy and kind of slept another 30 minutes, until I told him again, that I thought I was in labor.  So, he got up and was getting things together to go to the hospital.  But, I paused,  I was worried.  My water hadn't broken, and everyone told me I would know if I was in labor.  Well, I didn't know. So, I called my sister, she suggested that I go for a short walk and if my contractions don't go away then I should probably head to the hospital.  She didn't realize that I had in fact been laboring all day, and I forgot to mention that tidbit of information.  So, we went for a walk.  The labor continued, the contractions continued.  Living in a small, close knit community, we ran into like a million members of the Ward and they all wanted to shoot the breeze, and at this point, I knew it was time to go.  It wasn't easing up, it was getting worse and closer.  So, we packed the car, packed up our dog to take him to my Dad's.  I began timing my contractions. 3 minutes apart, consistently.  When we reached my Dad's house, 2 minutes apart.  Thomas couldn't hurry fast enough, please don't shoot the breeze with my Dad and brothers, get in the car!!  We rushed to the hospital.  I was feeling it.  Since it was my first pregnancy, they weren't too concerned that I was actually in labor when we arrived at the hospital. Which just happened to be the same hospital that I was born at myself.  So, they took their sweet time.  Had me go into a room. Change into this hospital gown, pee in a cup, lay on the bed.  My entire body was contracting, I couldn't sit still, let alone pee accurately in a cup, but I managed.  This stinking hurt!  Finally a nurse came in to check me. "Oh, you are dilated to an 8, you are going to have a baby tonight"  Of course the language in my head was different, but I basically said to  myself "No duh Sherlock!"  I am just not that kind of girl, that kind of patient that winces and moans at the smallest pain.  I am the one to wait to see if it passes, to not bug the doctor, to make sure that there is nothing else I can do.  When I go in for an emergency, I promise, at that point it will be an emergency.  That is just how I am and I have always been.  As they were scrambling to get everything together, I struggled with all this pain.  I had planned on an epidural, it wasn't even a choice, why would I want to go natural??  And after feeling all this insane pain, I wondered how the earth was even populated.  I heard a lady screaming down the hall, I understood her, though I never screamed or cried.  I hadn't prepared for natural, so I was struggling to be calm.  The anesthesiologist was in with a C-section, so they weren't sure if he would make it in time.  I was relieved when he came rushing in, though I wasn't sure he was the guy I wanted to see, he was dressed in scrubs but had a bright red metal tool box.  Apparently that was what he carried his equipment in.  He put that epidural in, and I could finally relax, I could finally breathe.  Porter came that night at around 10:30 pm, I wanted him to be a July baby, since his whole room was decorated Americana style,

but that's Porter, he does things when he wants to, and came one day before July.  He was beautiful.  He was perfect. 6 pounds 9 ounces.  Nice and small.  I was grateful, Thomas, my husband, was a 10 pound baby, so I was scared that my baby might be huge.  Porter came with a head full of dark hair, just like I did when I was born.  He was a skinny little newborn, but my heart couldn't love more than it did when I held him.  I pause, and embrace that moment, I can still feel the magic, that was the night I became a Mommy.

   (The date and time on my camera was off by a few months, He was born June 30, 2005, I swear!)

  Porter was an easy baby.  We moved when he was 3 months old to Florida, for Thomas's new job. 

We stayed there about 6 months and that business venture failed, and we moved up to Mississippi to where Thomas is from, and moved into his parents house, temporarily.....or at least I thought.   Temporarily turned into 3 years as Thomas tried to figure out what he wanted to do for his career.  He went to school a little bit, he attempted a lawn business, and then finally decided to become a police officer and go through a rigorous training academy.  Finally, he had a job that was secure, and we ventured to buy our second home.  We found a cheap fixer upper and worked hard to get it nice and cozy inside.  We moved in before all the work was done, because we were anxious to finally get back on our own again.  To this day there are still so many little projects that need to be done, that we just seem to overlook.

   So, Thomas had a job, we had a place of our own.  It was time to start thinking about having another child.  It was our anniversary in May and we went to Gatlinburg.  We decided there that we would start trying for our second child.  But, wouldn't you know it, right when we decided that, my period decided to stop happening.  My body was being weird.  Porter had just turned 4 years old.  I went to the doctor, I want to call her Dr Uterus Killer, but that isn't her right name, and not that she is innocent, but I will use a fake name for her.  Dr. Fullington.  But, if you want a suggestion on an OBGYN, just ask, I'll tell you who to go to and who to avoid.  Well, I went to Dr. Fullington, she was recommended at that time.  She said we needed to get on a medication to jump start my period, once we got that restarted, we would take my blood to see if I was ovulating and then we would get on some fertility medication.  She sounded like she knew what she was doing, and she felt confident that we would get pregnant.  It didn't happen instantly, like it did with Porter.  We had to be a little more patient with this one.  Taking the fertility medication gave us a higher chance at twins or more, which both was scary but exciting.  I would be happy with any!  Well, in October 2009, we got pregnant with Addie. 

           At about 6 weeks, I was running on the treadmill, and afterwards went to the bathroom.  I noticed a teeny bit of blood, of spotting.  I freaked out, called the doctor.  They had me come in and check, they did a trans-vaginal ultrasound, and everything was fine. There she was, with a little fluttering heart beat.  They told me to take it easy for a while, and I didn't see any more spotting, only that one day.  The pregnancy went well.  Everything seemed pretty normal.  We told everyone on Thanksgiving that year that we were pregnant.  I remember telling Porter that morning, before we left to tell all Thomas's family.  I told him that Mommy had a baby in her tummy.  He seemed a little confused, but excited.  Porter is a thinker, and I could tell the wheels were turning in that little brain and he said "We need to put a chain in your stomach."  "A what?"  "A chain, so the baby can climb up out of the food that you eat"  Ha ha ha! Sweet Angel!  I assured him I would get a chain installed before I had my Thanksgiving dinner.  Oh, I just love him, and how his mind works!  Finally it was time to find out if we were having a boy or a girl.  My heart was set on a girl, simply because I already had the perfect boy.  Of course Porter seemed to be leaning towards a little brother, naturally.  But one day, as I was reading him a book, I told him "One day you will be able to read to the baby"  His eyes sparkled, and he told me "I want it to be a sister".
      Thomas, Porter and I went into the ultrasound, all very excited.  The Sonographer asked Porter "Do you want a brother or a sister? "  He quietly said "A sister".  Good thing baby cooperated and we found out that in fact Porter would get his sister, and I would get my little girl!!

We were all so happy.  The Doctor voiced a little concern about my placenta, it was low lying.  She was confident that as my uterus grew, the placenta would rise up with the growing belly and not cause any problems.  Placenta previa is where the placenta covers the exit and can cause some problems at birth.  She diagnosed me with marginal placenta previa. And she was right, as I got bigger, the placenta moved and didn't seem to be in the way anymore.  The concern was there would most likely be more bleeding during labor, but nothing to really worry about.  The rest of the pregnancy was fine.  I marvel at how amazing it is to feel another little human being move around inside of you.  It is one of the most incredible feelings in the entire world, that only Mommies experience.  And where that special bond between Mother and Child begins.  However, I live in Mississippi, and Addie was due in August, and it was a HOT summer.  I began wishing that the pregnancy would be over soon, I was tired of being hot and fat, and neither of those in the positive senses of the word (hot & phat).  Of course I wanted a healthy baby, but I was ready come July to be over with it!!  Mississippi in the summer is hot and humid and miserable.  Going to the pool was the only means of survival, minus the fact that I looked liked a beached whale, and soon enough the pool water gets warm and feels like a bath, and no longer is that very nice at all. 

   The time drew closer that Addie would be born.  My Mom had bought a plane ticket to come August 12, Addie was due around then.  My Mom wasn't able to stay long and I hated the idea that I might still be pregnant when she got here and might not be able to even see the baby during her trip.  I expressed my concerns to the Dr, and she agreed to induce me August 4, 2010.  I was excited and grateful.  But now, I wonder if I should have been induced, maybe being induced was a part of the problems that were about to occur.  However, being induced for me was great.  I took a shower that morning, did my hair and makeup, and knew "Hey, I'm having a baby today, no question!!!"  We went to the hospital, gowned up, and waited.  I was having pretty decent contractions on my own, maybe I would have had Addie that day anyway, that I don't know.  I got the epidural, and they kicked up the pitocin.  I was ready to go.  I wasn't in pain, I could enjoy this, enjoy the whole labor.  I was excited to see my little girl!  As we were sitting waiting, a nurse came to check me, she gasped a little, there was a lot of blood on the bed and down my legs, I didn't know because I couldn't feel anything from the epidural.  Dr Fullington came in, and said we had expected extra bleeding because of the low lying placenta, and wasn't worried.  The labor continued nicely. And it only took a few pushes to get her out at around noon.

 

Once they laid her on my chest, I paid little attention to what was going on near my nether regions.  I heard the Dr counting gauze, I think.  Making sure she had it all? Not sure, I was too smitten by the little tiny, chubby cheeked angel I was holding.  She was slightly heavier than her brother, 7 pounds 13 ounces, that extra pound was in her cheeks for sure.

And she came with the most precious of dimples under her right eye.  She also came with a head of dark brown hair, just like her brother did, and just like I did.  She was perfect, and I was so happy.   This time after labor was a little different.  When I nursed her, it gave me contractions, which is normal, but I didn't know that.  My stomach, stayed kind of soft and gooey for a while, which is normal too.  It just took longer for it to shrink away, with Porter it just basically melted off.  But, I wasn't too concerned with that.  My family was perfect, and I was so happy.

          We got home and Porter started school the next week, Kindergarten! 

It was actually perfect, because he was extremely jealous of the baby, since it really limited Mommy time with him.  School seemed like the perfect distraction, I would spend all day with the baby, and when he came home, focus on him.  My Mom had flown in and was able to be there for the first day of school moments too, and to help with the baby, and to take a million pictures!!!  My older sister and my Dad also planned on visiting, but they would come in October.  So, we planned to bless Addie when they came.  Her baby blessing would be on 10/10/10, I thought that was pretty cool.

       Adelaide was a pretty easy baby. 

Nursing was a lot easier this time around.  With Porter it felt like the most unnatural natural thing in the world.  She was obviously getting the nourishment she needed, because she chubbed up quick.  It had been 5 years since I had a new baby, but I was surprised how easily all those Mommy tricks came back.  But there was something I had forgotten, and that was the bleeding that happens after a baby.  I vaguely remembered bleeding a lot after Porter, maybe a week or two.  Obviously not very much and not very long if I hadn't remembered it.  But after Addie, it was different.  I just kept bleeding and bleeding.  It wasn't a ton, but it was pretty consistent and pretty constant.  At my 6 week check up, the nurse practitioner  checked me, and said all looked well.  She wasn't concerned about the bleeding, and assured me it should stop any day now.  It still bothered me and I didn't feel totally relaxed about it.  I was tired of wearing pads, too.  A tampon would be so much easier, but I knew they discouraged using tampons during the first 6 weeks after having a baby.  But, it was 7 weeks now, so I decided to use one.  I felt guilty, and took it out.  It still had blood on it, and it just seemed strange.  So, then I found a weird product, called 'Instead'.  It basically looks kind of like a diaphragm, I guess, I have never seen a diaphragm, but it has a flexible ring and a little sack to catch your menstrual stuff (sorry, this story is going to get graphic), then at the end of the day you take it out and insert another.  The "good" thing about using the 'Instead' thingamajig, is that you can wear it (wear it? use it? not sure what term to use) for 12 hours before having to change it, which is longer than you can wear a tampon. ANYHOW! I figured I would try it, it seemed more sanitary (less prone to have/generate bacteria like a tampon could) and there was no where it said that I couldn't use it (on pamphlets from the hospital), and it seemed way better than a pad, but I guess more messy to take out, but I hadn't gotten to that part yet.  So, I had my 'Instead' in place and went about my day.  That night I needed to take it out, which was tricky and awkward, but I finally removed it.  I looked in the little baggy part that caught 'stuff' and got scared.  There were clots in it and blood.  Not big clots, but I hadn't ever passed a clot, so I was seriously concerned.  Clots couldn't be good, 7 + weeks after giving birth I told myself.  Naturally, I googled it, and saw that several women had had this happen, and once the clots passed, the bleeding stopped.  So, it gave me a little reassurance, but it is google, not necessarily truth for me particularly. I stopped using the 'Instead' things, and went back to pads.  There was still a fear cloud in the back of my mind and I decided I would call the doctor the next day, and see what I should do.  I didn't want to be annoying.  I didn't want to be that patient, the one they roll their eyes when she calls, and she calls for everything and even describes her poop.  I wasn't going to be that girl.  But I was scared. This had been going on for 7 weeks, and I was concerned, so I called.  The nurse told me not to worry, that it is normal to continue to bleed a while and pass clots.  She told me "If you fill up a pad within an hour, then you should be concerned and come in".  Ok, so, I hadn't filled a pad in an hour.  And then I began to over think that, it's just what I do. Like, how full is full in a pad??  I mean, every last inch of it full?!?! Is that what you mean?  I didn't know, but I hadn't bled THAT much.  It just seemed to be a constant, yet a slight trickle.  So, Sarrah, I told myself, you shouldn't be concerned.  My fear cloud still remained though.

    The next week, 8 weeks after I had Adelaide, I sat down and ate some ravioli, it was pretty generic and disgusting, but it was leftovers and someone had to eat it.  I sat down on the floor in the living room and nursed Addie before her nap.  She nursed like a champ and fell right to sleep.  I laid her in the bouncer next to me, and was watching some dumb daytime television. 

I sat there watching, my back to the couch, my knees up, my legs open a little....and that's when I felt it.  A little, almost insignificant pop, and then a gush.  I remembered instantly the words "filling a pad within an hour".....but what about filling a pad within 5 seconds???  Because that is about how long it took, I jumped up and ran to the hallway bathroom and dropped my pants and sat down.  The blood came gushing out of me.  It had leaked through my pad, onto my undergarments onto my jeans.  It sounded like  I was peeing into the toilet ( I told you it was going to get graphic), like that pee where you just made it to the toilet barely and are pushing hard to relieve yourself, but I wasn't pushing, and it wasn't pee.  It was a lot of blood.  I was freaking out.  I was alone.  Thomas had gone to some kind of police training in a different city that was about 3 hours away.  I stuffed some toilet paper in my pants and ran to find my phone.  I ran back to the bathroom and found that toilet paper soaked through with blood, and the blood continued to drain out of my body, into the toilet.  Huge clots began to pass too, clots so large that I thought they looked like bodily organs coming out.  I was frantic. I called Thomas, knowing he wouldn't answer, that he was in a class or training outside.  I called my sister in law Adrianne, I knew she was working here in Clinton, but I also knew she was terrible at answering her cellphone (it's just a fact, I am not trying to be mean Adi!! Ha! Plus she was at work, she shouldn't answer right??), she is a nurse, so I knew I needed her.  Since she didn't answer I started to panic.  I called Dr Fullington's office, at this point I had kept my cool for the most part, sure I was panicked, but I wasn't crying. Yet, once I finally reached someone on the phone, I lost it. "Dr. Fullington's office"  "I'M HEMMORHAGING!!!" I screamed.  They hurried and got me a nurse.  I did my best to explain what was happening.  You see, I am not that patient who calls for every little ache and pain, I'm the one who calls when it is an emergency.  The nurse told me to go to the emergency room.  Ok....how?  I really didn't want to call an ambulance for myself, and what would happen to Addie?  Where would she go?  So, I texted Thomas that I thought I was bleeding to death.  He called back " Call an ambulance! Call Adrianne! Call an Ambulance!"  So, in my last ditch effort before calling the ambulance, I called Adrianne, but on the work number at Doc's office.  She answered.  I cried to her what was happening, and she told me she was on  her way. I continued to bleed.  I got up and checked on Addie, still asleep, so soundly.  I grabbed some towels and grabbed a pair of Thomas's sweat pants.  I unlocked the door, and sat back on the toilet and continued to bleed as I waited for Adrianne to arrive. She came very fast.  Assessed the situation, grabbed Addie, put her in the car seat and put her in her car.  I put the towels between my legs and pulled up the sweat pants over them. And grabbed another towel to sit on in Adrianne's car.  She took a picture of what looked like a murder scene in my bathroom, to show the doctor.  As we were backing out, Dr Fullington's office called and told us to just come to the St. Dominic's Office, where she was.  It was connected to the hospital.  We sped to the doctor's office, Adrianne put on her hazards and we sped the whole way.  We got to the offices and there were wheelchairs at the door.  Adrianne grabbed one, I sat in it, and she put Addie's car seat on my lap, she was still asleep, the angel.  We went up the elevator.  I am sure we were a sight.  Me in my awesomely huge sweat pants, and the panic and sweat on Adrianne's face.  We finally get to the office.  The front office lady looks clueless, the waiting room was relatively empty.  "Oh, we don't have a room for you yet."  In my mind, "are you freaking kidding me??? I am bleeding to death!!!!"  Since I was such a sight, and probably disturbing looking to those few in the waiting room, they wheeled me back into the lab. And took my blood pressure. I felt like maybe I was going crazy?? You are taking my blood pressure right now?  Like this is a normal visit??  Is this like when I went to the hospital with Porter dilated to an 8, and they make me pee in a cup and take their time?!?!?  I am not that patient!!!  I am not the squeaky annoying wheel who calls the office with a non-emergency that I think is an emergency!!! I am very literally, bleeding.....to death.  And you are going to take my blood pressure?? That is somehow going to help the situation?!?!  I keep all this self talk to myself, I let the nurse take my blood pressure, and it is relatively normal, probably because I had the false sense that I was in a place that was going to help me!!! And that my body hadn't fully assessed what was happening.  Finally, a room becomes available.  The nurse asks me, "how about you sit up on the table?"  I calmly tell her, "If I stand up, I will bleed all over the table and the floor"  She looks at me, "oh, ok, you can just wait then until the doctor comes in"  Like she doesn't believe me.  She will seen soon enough, when she has to clean it up. Finally, Dr Fullington walks in, dressed in regular clothes, sorry about that, I'm gonna bleed all over those jokers.  We explain what had happened, and she asks me to get on the table.  As I remove the towel, the gushing blood continues and clots pass.  She stuffs me full of gauze and says I need to have an emergency D&C.  Adrianne reassures me that everything will be ok and that it is necessary.  They wheel me over to the hospital to sign me in and get paperwork started.  They bring in the industrial strength breast pump, so I can get some milk out for Addie before they put me under.  I attempt to nurse her too.  Thomas arrives, he had made a 3 hour trip in about an hour and a half, luckily he was in his police car.  They put in the IV, give me a dose of some sleepy stuff and wheel me to surgery.  Surgery rooms are always so cold.  I remember shifting to the other table, laying down, them putting oxygen on me, and that was it.  I woke up in recovery, my guts feeling like they had been ripped out.  I was groggy, but I could feel myself trickle a little more blood out.  Will it ever stop?  The recovery nurse, who happened to be a male, and happened to look like a real creepy guy I know, cleaned me up....which was just....weird.  I went back to my room, to Thomas, and Adrianne and Addie.  They wouldn't let me leave until I drank something and peed.  Which I did, and was on my way.  The Doctor didn't really mention anything to me about the surgery, I didn't see her.  But they did take the 'stuff' that they took out of me and sent it to pathology.  I hurt, but not too horribly, plus I didn't want to take anything too strong, because I was nursing and couldn't.  I had a doctor appointment the next week, to see the lab results.  I was still trying to nurse Addie, that was important to me.  My supply seemed to be lacking a little, but we continued.  I went in to my appointment.  They did a trans-vaginal ultrasound (my favorite! Just kidding), I am not an ultrasound technician, I'm not a Sonographer, I have no experience other than what I had seen of my babies.....BUT, that ultrasound looked weird.  Crazy looking.  I could tell by the look on the sonographer's face that something wasn't right.  She took a bunch of pictures and sent me on to see Dr. Fullington.  She came in and told me about the lab report.  That things were weird on there.  They found tissue in there that was both dead and possibly alive/!?! What does that mean?  It was placental tissue.  Possibly could be placenta accreta, is what she said.  That is where, like cancer, but not cancer, the placenta continues to grow and can grow into your uterus and further.  But she wasn't sure.  She said the ultrasound looked strange too.  That maybe we will have to do a hysterectomy....that's where I lost it.   I wasn't done having kids.  This can't be the end.  How dare me wish away Addie's pregnancy, when it might be my last.  It can't be the end.  You can't take my uterus, you can't take away that chance.  Dr. Fullington could see my despair and pain, and immediately said, "Well, we will do the most conservative thing first...."  Back pedaling. She wanted to go back in and do another D & C, but with a hysteroscopy (where they take a camera and look around in there).  And that we would do that next week.  Ok, I thought. Anything is better than a hysterectomy.  I didn't think it odd to do a back to back D&C, but what do I know?  Maybe that is ok.  So, we got scheduled to do it, exactly 2 weeks after my first D&C.  My sister and my Dad were to arrive 2 days after that second D&C, I hoped I would be feeling good by then.

     So, this time, it was a scheduled D&C, which has a lot more prep than an emergency D&C.  It includes preregistering at the hospital, bloodwork, fasting, drinking some stuff that gives you diarrhea (to clean you out real good), oh and if that isn't enough I got to give myself my own enema, and a douche!  Wow, that was a fun night.  We left to the hospital early early.  Making sure Addie had enough pumped milk and someone could take Porter to school and pick him up.  They got me all hooked up with an IV, and wheeled me back to that freezing cold room.  It had more equipment in it this time (I guess for the hysteroscopy), bright lights. I remember moving to another table and the oxygen on, and I was out.  I woke up in recovering.  My guts  were throbbing.  Like someone had reached in there and thrashed all around.  Then I felt some discomfort around my right lung.  They wheeled me back into the room I started. The discomfort continued in my guts and around my lungs, it made it hard to breath.  I tried to take shallow breaths, I tried to take deep breaths, no matter what I did, it hurt.  Dr Fullington came in, said things went well.  They didn't see much, just an angry looking uterus, it was red and swollen.  They did a little scraping, but not much.  I asked about my lungs and breathing, she said it could be possible that she had perforated my uterus.  Oh, thanks!! Grrrr.  Now all this extra gas from my uterus had seeped up around my lungs....oh but don't worry, it should resolve itself over the next few days.  Sounds fantastic.  I stayed there a little while longer, drank some Sprite and peed, and got to go home.  My guts were hurting, but not being able to breathe was worse. I again couldn't take anything, because  I was nursing.  Thomas took me in and I sat down in the recliner in our room, laid back and tried to rest.  I could hear him and Porter playing outside.  Addie began to stir, she was in her car seat asleep, up on our bed.  I tried to get up, but I couldn't, I couldn't hardly breath. It hurt.  I sent Thomas a text to come in and help me.  He came in, and I started to cry, but it hurt too much to cry.  I told him to help me up, when he did, it hurt so much, he had to yank me up fast, like yanking a band-aid off quick so it doesn't hurt as bad.  I finally caught my breath, but was totally stressed and worried about my breathing issue.  How long would this continue???  My sister and Dad were to arrive the next day.  I started to feel hot, feverish.  I took my temperature and  definitely had a fever.  The doctor put me on antibiotics.  I felt horrible. Like I had been hit by a bus.  I had zero energy.  My body was finally realizing what it had been through the past two weeks, and was reacting to it.  My milk supply was down, I was scared Addie wasn't getting enough food.  She decided during this time that colic would be a fun addition.  I remember how disillusioned I felt, hearing her scream, rocking her in the bouncer, staring at the wall in the middle of the night. Hardly any sleep, surgery after surgery, blood loss, worry, and a nice dose of colic.  I felt crazy.  I woke my husband up and demanded a blessing, I needed the Lord's strength to carry me through this.  My sister and Dad arrived the Friday after my surgery, Thomas picked them up from the airport, they flew in late, around 10 I think.  I did my best to pull myself out of bed to greet them, still fighting the gas surrounding my lungs and the pain of getting up and down.  I remember slowly making my way down the hallway, just to offer them a weak hello.  That is just not like me, but it was all I had. And I made my way back to bed.  I felt horrible, inside and out.  Their trip here would be spoiled because I was in such shape.  They wouldn't enjoy their time here. And I felt bad about that.  That Sunday, we planned to bless Addie.  I got dressed and made myself go.  I probably should have stayed home, but this is what they came for, and I wasn't going to miss it. 

Looking back at the pictures, I looked terrible.  I was so pale, so weak looking.  Thomas blessed Addie and it was a beautiful blessing.  I found the strength to get up and bear my testimony, I don't remember what I said, but I am sure I was a sight. A hot mess of a sight.

  The rest of their visit was spent mostly at home, we watched shows together.  We laughed some, we cried some.  My Dad and Jen took Porter to the fair, I was grateful to them to help keep his world normal, while mine felt like it was falling apart.

Finally the gas around my lungs did go away, but I still bled some and  then I started having extreme pain in my guts when I would have a bowel movement.  I would have to grip the cabinets and the tub while I would go, it was incredibly painful.  I knew there had to be something else wrong with me.  I made the mistake again to google my problems, I came up with colitis.  After all this, I definitely began having my doubts about Dr. Fullington, and how she did things.  I was scared to tell her about my pain, because she might just have me come in for another D&C!!!
So I talked to Thomas's Grandfather, who everyone knows as Doc, because he is a doctor.  I told him what was happening, and he did blood work.  He told me, "Looks like you need an old country doctor to get you feeling better."  How I love him and his sweet tender care.  The blood work came back, and he told me "Well, now I know why you are struggling so much to get better, you have half the blood your body needs"  This was 3 or 4 weeks after I had hemorrhaged, after having not one, but 2 D&C's.....shouldn't my other doctor have picked up on this.  He had me start taking iron to start building my blood supply up.  He felt it was truly amazing that I was still actually breastfeeding.  My body was doing it's best to create a milk supply and rebuild my blood supply.  No wonder I was so weak and pale.  I finally went back for a follow up with Dr Fullington.  We did an ultrasound.  It looked a little better. The sonographer asked if I had been experiencing any pain lately.  I told her actually I had been, she told me it was probably because I had a large cyst that looked like it had burst, hmmm, go figure, that's what it was. When I felt like my guts were exploding during a bowel movement, I was really trying to bathroom out a cyst, wow, how painful.  The doctor mentioned that my myometrium layer looked thicker than it should, but that we needed to let it all heal.  I left that day, never to come back and see her.  I had lost confidence in her judgment as a doctor.  I have also heard many other stories about her, sadly mostly all of them ended in a hysterectomy....that may or may not have been the best solution. Dr. Uterus Killer, that is how I will remember her.

    Well, life went on. The bleeding eventually stopped.  I continued to breast feed Addie like a champ, well, like an overachiever.  I am a little embarrassed to say that I breastfed both of my children until they were 18 months.  I have three years of breastfeeding and only two kids.  Oh well, it is what it is.  Well, Once I stopped breastfeeding Addie, she was ready for nursery! Ha! But, it was about February 2012.  My period hadn't started during the time I was breastfeeding, but that seemed normal, because that is what happened with Porter.  It took a while for it to get back in the rhythm of things.  I wasn't too worried.  It would come back, and I would be dreading it every month.  It didn't come back in March, it didn't come back in April.  It would be weird though, I would feel crampy, like it was coming and it never would.  I remember my older sister came again to visit, and we had a great time, she happened to be on her period, so I hoped my uterus would get itself together and follow suite with hers.  Again, I felt crampy, but nothing more.  Then in June, I noticed that my right side would ache more, during these times that I was crampy feeling.  Like a sharp pain.  I started to get concerned. This was going on longer than it should.  I should have had my period by now.  My stomach would bloat and pucker out, and I wouldn't bleed.  People probably figured I was pregnant sometimes, with my belly bulging at times.  I started doing my dreaded past time of googling, trying to figure out what was happening.  This time, I came up with Asherman's Syndrome.  It matched almost everything about my situation and symptoms.  But, I was wrong about colitis, I could be wrong about this.  I hoped I was wrong, because Asherman's leaves little hope for having children. I talked to Adrianne, and we both knew it was time for a new doctor.  She referred me to Dr. David Waddell, and that is his name, and I use it because he is an amazing doctor and I am incredibly grateful for him. And I would recommend him to anyone and everyone....well, at least all females!! 

     I went into see Dr. Waddell for the first time.  Gave him my huge crazy history.  Told him how much I wanted to still have children. Told him what I thought it might be, that I researched Asherman's.  He told me in all his years as a doctor, he had never seen a case of Asherman's, because it is very rare, I still wasn't convinced that it wasn't what I had.  I told him my history about trying to get pregnant with Addie and how we had medication, he was glad to hear that, since there had been a struggle yet we overcame it. But he didn't want to jump right in to jump starting my period with medication just yet.  I can't remember if we did an ultrasound that day, or if I came back.  But, he decided that we needed to do an ultrasound so that maybe we could get to the bottom of what might be causing this pain and what might be causing my lack of menstruation. So, again, a lovely trans-vaginal ultrasound, they really aren't that bad....but when you aren't looking for a baby inside, it really takes the joy out of them.  We looked, again, my limited knowledge of ultrasounds, I couldn't really tell what we were looking at.  Dr. Waddell was kind enough to explain during it, there was something inside of me, not necessarily a tumor, it looked like fluid.  He couldn't get a real sure idea of exactly what he was looking at, and that the only way that he could, would be an exploratory type of surgery.  Not another surgery, please.  And at this point, we had a new insurance, but this insurance didn't cover female organs....great.  No telling how much it would cost our family.  I was overwhelmed and began to cry.  I had just been through a crazy type of hell a year before, and did not want to do it again.  And I tried to lay blame on the fact that our insurance wouldn't cover it, and I didn't know what we would do.  He was sweet, he was kind and gentle.  He told me, "If you were my Sarrah, it wouldn't matter the cost to get you to feel better." I needed to hear that.  It needed to happen.  It wasn't going to go away on it's own.  I needed to talk to Thomas, and we needed to figure out the price and just how we would do this.  Sometimes I just wish money wouldn't be part of the issue.  But it always is.  But we needed to do it.  It was unavoidable.  And every month, it would hurt worse.  I was scheduled to come back and do another ultrasound, to see if this mass of fluid had shrunk or expanded.  Thomas and I called the hospital, and tried to figure out a payment play.  We had to come up with a $2000 down payment in order to do the surgery.  Which we could do, it would just destroy our meager savings, but that is what it is there for.  Being a police officer just pays the bills, that's about it. We scheduled the surgery for August 2012.  I can't remember for sure, but I was hurting, like a really deep side ache.  I went into see Dr Waddell.  He had been at the hospital most of the day, we were scheduled to do the surgery the next week.  He asked if I would just like to come to the hospital and do the surgery right then.  I agreed.  I didn't have time to google anything, or over think.  I had to just go to the hospital an get have surgery.  We paid the $2000 and I got wheeled up to the hospital, I felt the wheel chair was unnecessary, but they insisted.  Luckily, I hadn't eaten much that day, so we didn't have to wait very long.  I was scared of what he would find inside of me....what could it be?  Would we find out we have something way worse than I could possibly imagine.  I didn't have too much time to think, it was very unknown.  I got in my gown, I got my IV, and they wheeled me down the hall.  It's a strange feeling, laying down, rolling down a hall. People look at you as they pass, they are naturally curious, if I hadn't been so nervous, I could have really fooled them and acted crazy, or dead, or something, but my sense of humor was on a low at the moment.  Into that icy surgery room, that is so bright, and so cold!  They cover you with warmed blankets, but you still feel the cold.  They switched me over to the table. Added some sleepy stuff to my IV, put the oxygen on.  I stayed awake a little longer than the other surgeries, trying to listen.  How they would talk about me, not negatively, just like I wasn't even there....and soon enough I wasn't.  I woke up, but this time not in the recovery room, I was in the room where I had started.  I could hear Dr Waddell talking to my family.  I could hear Adrianne, she kissed my cheek and told me she loved me.  I couldn't open my eyes, and my guts were hurting so bad.  But I was desperate to know what the Doctor found, and what would happen next.  When I could finally pry my eyes open, my husband was the only one there.  I wasn't sure how long I had been there, but they did want me to stay the night since my surgery happened late in the afternoon.  Which naturally worried the money side of me.  But, I wanted to hear what the doctor saw and did, he had already left for the night.  And in a nut shell, this is what had been happening.  I did in fact have Asherman's Syndrome. (google can be right sometimes!). After those two D&C's, my guts (uterus) were so angry and swollen, after being scraped and gutted twice in a two week period, stayed swollen for a while and began to heal.  But, since it was so swollen, my uterus healed shut, healed together. Dr. Waddell had to go in there and cut through the scar tissue, that had been for over half a year I guess.  But, that wasn't the last of it, once he cut through, he discovered that I had been menstruating, but there was no exit for it, so it collected inside.  The body is smart, and proactive.  It realized the situation and did it's best to compartmentalize, for lack of a better word, my periods.  It would collect it up and kind of contain it to an area.  The doctor said there were packets, so to speak, of old blood. It looked like they were wrapped in Saran wrap.  He would pop each packet and out would come a thick motor oil looking stuff.  These pockets of blood were all over my uterus, wrapped tightly around my fallopian tubes, wrapped around my appendix, anywhere my body could put it to get it out of the way.  I got a bonus appendectomy that day too, because once they removed the pocket from my appendix, it looked terrible, and since they were in there, they might as well remove it.  Good call! Save me a surgery down the road, another bonus point for Dr. Waddell.  After 'popping' all these blood pockets, he began to irrigate my uterus, and my fallopian tubes. He said the right one looked in terrible shape, and if he was a 'numbers' person, he would give that one maybe a 5% chance of ever working like it is supposed to.  The damage that was done to it was severe.  Like someone holding it closed tightly....for months.  There are little tiny silica in there, that are so fragile, and gentle guide the egg down from the ovary to the uterus, he feared they might completely be destroyed, and that might stop any egg from my right ovary to find it's way to the uterus.  The left fallopian tube was also damaged, just not quite as bad, and maybe there is more of a chance for that side being functional.  He reiterated that the miracle of life is just that, it's a miracle that it happens when everything is healthy and functioning as it should.  But it my case, it looked like it would happen on it's own.  However, although there was scar tissue, my uterus still looking good.  He felt that in vitro fertilization might be a good option for us.  Naturally I'll I heard was, In Vitro costs a LOT of money, my husband is a cop.  But, there was hope.  He was worried that my uterus would try to heal shut again, since it was irritated from all the surgery, so he inserted a pediatric catheter filled with saline, kind of like a little balloon and put that inside my uterus to stay for 7-10 days to ensure that my uterus would heal open.  I can't tell you how lovely it was to have that dangling catheter hanging out of my girl parts for days, it hung down to about as far as the middle of my thighs. Moving it here and there as I used the bathroom, being extra careful to keep it in my underwear and not pull it out accidentally when I was pulling my pants down.  But, I was grateful to that vaginal nuisance, because I was hopeful it would help me heal correctly.  That evening at the hospital I attempted to eat some food, and they were forcing me to drink and were also pumping me full of a lot of fluids.  I had a catheter in to collect my pee and make sure I was passing enough.  That is an odd feeling too. So basically I had 2 catheters in, one for me to pee through and one to keep my uterus open.  Well, I started to feel like I needed to pee, which I shouldn't, because it was suppose to just drain on it's own.  I pressed the button for the nurse, and told her I was feeling some pressure.  She checked my output sack and was like, "No, you're fine, it's draining."  "But why all this pressure?"  She didn't really have an answer and went to fetch me some pain medicine.  Well, she obviously got distracted, and I was left alone.  Thomas had gone to get himself some dinner.  The pressure continued, I finally looked at my abdomen, it was completely swelled up, and I knew it wasn't just from the surgery.  There had to be a kink in the catheter somewhere, I  just knew it.  I pressed the nurse button again, at this point I was in tears, this hurt worse than the surgery.  "I really need someone in here, something is wrong"  They weren't as quick as I would have like.  I explained that I felt like my bladder was going to burst.  They saw my swollen belly.  The nurse checked the line, like she had before.  At this point I was squirming because it was an incredible amount of pressure, and something was seriously wrong.  My face showed my distress.  Hey there nurse, remember me? I am not the fussy patient, if I'm telling you this, it's for real.  Finally she checked further up the catheter, to where it was actually inside me, and sure enough a kink.  She fixed it, and out gushed so much pee, they had to change the bag twice that was catching it.  It was a terribly desperate moment, and was worse than the actual surgery.

    Healing took longer than I would like.  I had 3 incisions on my abdomen, one in my belly button, one on my left side and one on my pubic bone.  I have an allergy to adhesives, and told them that, but the hospital definitely used some type of sticky tap, and my skin all over my belly bubbled up.  I went in for my follow up, the doctor removed my fun little catheter, quite the weird sensation, I assure you.  And that was it.  He wanted me to heal more, he wanted to see if I would start having periods on my own.  And he wanted me to eventually go to the infertility specialist, to see what our options were.

   That was August 2012, I started having periods on my own, which I never in my life had ever been happy or excited about.  Every time I would have them, it gave a little hope.  I think I was on birth control for a few months, to help my cycle get regular.  But, it started giving me the worst zits ever.  So we changed types, and eventually I was allowed to get off the birth control pills.  And I remained hopeful, that is some crazy way there was a possibility that we could get pregnant on our own.  I haven't been on birth control since.

    Nothing happened, and not for lack of trying either.  We tried to figure out my cycle and when I ovulated, we tried really hard, for about a year.  And we never actually stopped trying, just not as timed as we had before.  I had begun to give up hope.  I was trying to be realistic.  The doctor told me my chances were very very small, and he was proving to be right.  I prayed so many times, begging Heavenly Father to let me get pregnant. A year had passed since that surgery, surely my body could do miraculous things.  Surely my Heavenly Father could do miraculous things.  But nothing was happening.  And I was beginning to accept it.  I started looking into adoption.  Adoption is expensive, but about expensive as the fertility doctor, and maybe a little more successful??  I looked at online at adoption overseas, at special needs adoptions.  So sad, so many children without a Mommy to love.  I didn't know how we would come up with that big lump sum.  And no one would pity me, I have 2 healthy kids, a boy and a girl.  There are so many couples out there who don't have any kids!!  I already had such a blessing of family....but it doesn't feel complete.  I know that there are more, maybe one, maybe more.  I just definitely feel, deep in my heart, that I am not going to be a Mommy of just 2 kids...I just know that.  I felt such unrest when I thought of being done, that it was over.  Then I would feel guilty, like I was a bad Mom who was ungrateful for what she already has....which is not true.....I just want more, at least one more.  

          It would be a lie to say it hasn't been hard to see my friends and people I know get pregnant.  Some it seems like their husband can look at them funny and boom, pregnant.  Or seeing a teenage girl, with a bulging belly.  Why her and not me?  I could give that child a seemingly better, more grounded life.  I could give that child the Gospel, a nice home, everything they could ever need.  A brother and a sister, a Mommy and a Daddy that would love and adore them.  Why not me??  I struggled a lot with this.  Why couldn't I have this righteous desire of my heart.  As I thought about this, I began coming up with my own answers.  Maybe I am an inadequate Mom.  I do yell, probably more than I should. I have given lots of spankings.  Probably a lot more than other moms I know.  I've lost my temper.  We don't always read the scriptures together as a family, we have always struggled with that.  We hardly had Family Home Evening regularly, because it always seemed to end badly.  I felt maybe I was being punished by Heavenly Father for all the things I wasn't doing right.  And all those things I wasn't doing right obviously were outdoing anything I may have been doing right.  Then instead of the question, why not me? It became: why me?  I don't deserve it anymore than any other person.  Who am I really?  I am really nothing.  Who am I to blow against the wind?  I have two amazing and great children.  I have a boy AND a girl.  I need to be grateful for what I have and not ask for anymore. I need to accept that I may never get pregnant again, that I may never feel those special first flutters of a baby in my belly.  Or the huge movements as they grow bigger, and it looks like an alien trying to come out of your stomach.  How often I have kicked myself that I didn't enjoy every last second that I was pregnant with Addie, even if it was hot outside.  That I didn't just sit and marvel each day, as a healthy baby grew in my belly, the miracle every day, instead of wishing it away, wishing for it to be over quicker.  There is something so amazing about being pregnant. Yes 9 months is a long time, and yes, it is ok to want to hold that baby sooner than later.  But pregnancy is magical. A growing little spirit, from something so small, to the first flutter of a heart beat (what a beautiful noise), to be grateful for morning sickness,  to seeing all the little parts on the ultrasound, to finding out if you are having a boy or a girl, buying special maternity clothes to fit your body, to be fat and happy and totally ok that you are, to have your little ones and your loved ones hold their hand on your belly to feel a little kick or a little movement, to experiencing feeling someone inside of you have the hiccups.......it is all so amazing, such a precious gift from our Heavenly Father.  Yes, it is always enjoyable, but everything about it is a miracle and amazing and beautiful and in the end you get a baby!  It is never something to wish away, or two wish you could fast forward, but rather, I wish I could rewind and pause.  Yes, I kick myself for not fully appreciating the pregnancy of my two babies.

   As I began to accept this sad truth, that I may never have this happen again, I began to really consider the options I had.  Adoption and a fertility doctor.  Our insurance would never cover a fertility doctor, heck it doesn't even cover my female organs!! So, we thought about getting Obamacare, although I didn't want to, but our insurance now wouldn't help even a little,  maybe that would cover it, although I wasn't convinced that was the route I would take.  I'd rather pay for it myself then make the country pay for it.  Or adoption.  I noticed a lady at the gym, who was a white lady and she had a little black baby.  She was in a foster to adopt program.  She got him when he was just 3 weeks old.  He was about 10 months old now.  I asked her a little bit about the process.  She said they were trying to adopt, but really at any given moment, that mother or her family could take that baby away.  How heartbreaking that would be. To have this little baby for his first 10 months of life and someone could come right back and take him away, although he loves you and you love him, and he even has started to call you Mama.  It doesn't seem fair.  I don't know if my heart could handle that.  However, in through the state of Mississippi it would cost very little on our end to foster to adopt.  I just don't know if I could handle the possibility of having a baby ripped from my hands.  But I researched it some online, I even printed out an application.  I called the resource line several times, but no one answered and the voicemail box is full and I couldn't leave my information.  I even filled out most of the application. It is sitting right here on my computer desk, next to me.  It has for months.  I've started to try to talk to my husband about the possibility to adopt, or to get Obamamcare and go to the specialist, but it never seemed to be the right time.  So the application has sat here.

     That brings us to my most recent events.  My period has been relatively regular.  It hasn't been the same as before  all the weird stuff with Addie.  It is shorter and much lighter, which who would complain about that, but I always worried that it shouldn't be so light.  And maybe if it were heavier that meant a healthier uterus.....just me, over thinking anything that I can.  Well, my period last period was August 26, 2014.  I have the pink pad app on my phone, that lets me know when my period should be coming, and when I am ovulating, it is a great way to keep track and know your cycle and stuff.  Otherwise I really couldn't tell you so accurately the first day of my last period.  Well, I was late, about a week, which isn't anything totally abnormal, this has happened a few times, and I get a little excited and buy a pregnancy test to just get disappointed.  So, I was going to save my money, I had felt crampy, and felt like it was coming. I had felt overly tired all that week too, so it had to be coming, it would only make sense. Friday October 3, I started spotting. Oh, here we are, Aunt Flow finally came for her visit, I said to myself. Put in a tampon and went about my day. Later when I pulled out my tampon, which was a light tampon, not much was on it.  I thought that was a little weird, but not abnormal.  So, I decided to just stick to a pad until she really decided to flow (sorry to all you male readers). Saturday, which was General Conference I felt soooo exhausted.  Could hardly stay awake, I didn't want to move.  I was grateful it was General Conference weekend, so I could stay in my pajamas all day Sunday and relax.  At this point, I was 8 days or more late. And my flow never increased, just a little spotting.  Then I got to over thinking things.  My first thought was, my Asherman's is back, maybe just partially, and I can only get a little bit of my period out now.  Oh no, I can't do another surgery, no no no!! I had just visited someone in the hospital and the thought of going there for me made me nauseous!  I can't handle that again, I can't, I just can't.  I knew Dr Waddell would fuss at me, tell me that I needed to go to the specialist.  He had mentioned that maybe I go there and they would do a dye test to see if my fallopian tubes were even open, that might be part of the problem?  So, I decided I would buy a pregnancy test.  I remember driving to Walmart, having a conversation with myself, Sarrah, don't even think about the possibility of being pregnant, you have no faith in your uterus, in your girl parts.  We know they don't work.  We are taking this test simply because that will be the first thing the OBGYN office will ask, since your period is so late. It will be negative, you will call the office, the doctor will fuss at you for not going to the specialist sooner, you will go to the specialist and get things taken care of.  That is how I saw it all going in my mind, fully confident in my theory, and having no confidence in the possibility of being pregnant.   It is not fun at all buying a pregnancy test, when you know full well it will be negative.  It's actually kind of heart breaking. So I bought Monday. I decided to do as instructed, and wait to take it in the morning with my first morning pee, as instructed.  So, I went to bed, woke up at 4 to pee, decided it really didn't matter to take the test then, that it would be negative and I will drink a little water so I have to pee again at 6:30, so I went back to bed.  My alarm went off at 6:30, got up to go.  Grabbed the pregnancy test, reviewed the instructions, did my best to pee on the stick and not my hand, recapped it and set it in front of me.  It was a cheap 5 dollar pregnancy test, no use wasting money on the fancy digital ones, especially since it would say "Not Pregnant"  I watched as the pee soaked up the stick, it's like lighting a fuse on dynamite and watching it crawl up the wick, closer and closer to the  explosive part of the dynamite. Then the pee reaches the window, and it will give you a -- negative or a + positive, sign, it says it can take up to 5 minutes to read.  Well it instantly was positive, the positive part of the line was the darkest part of the test! 

I couldn't believe it.  I stared hard at it.  I looked at the instructions.  But I knew from reading it is very rare, practically impossible to get a false positive on a pregnancy test.  But me being pregnant was impossible too.  You know how cartoon characters rub their eyes really hard, to see clearer, I did that too. I got up, walked away, looked again.  I put the test in the box and threw it in the garbage. I wasn't going to tell Thomas, I don't know why , but I just wasn't.  I took the box out of the garbage and took the test out of the box.  Looked again. I cried. I shook my head, I set it down. I looked at it.  All the while the bathroom door was open.  Thomas peered in "What are you doing?"  I beckoned him to come in, "Look at this"  He looked. Then he said "You need to call the doctor"  Not exactly the response I was looking for, but he was right.  This was very unexpected.  We had both come to the conclusion that this was not going to happen on it's own. And the fact remained I was still spotting. Not a lot, but it was pretty consistent.  I still couldn't believe it. I worried that it could be an ectopic pregnancy, with all my fallopian tube issues, that wouldn't be too far fetched and seemed to me very probable.  I had told my friends I was going to take a test, but I couldn't tell them the results....not before I got some confirmation.  I had expressed to them my concerns that it was my Asherman's returning.  They were hopeful it wasn't.  But I didn't want anyone to know, until I got to the bottom of it.  I found a due date calculator online, and it figured I was about 6 weeks along, according to my menstrual cycle.  And that the baby would be due June 5, 2015.  I couldn't believe it though.  I texted my doctor.  It said "Hey Doc, this is Sarrah Cronin. Funny story, I took a pregnancy test this morning and it's positive! However, with my weird history, I am very nervous, I know you usually see people at 10 weeks, I'm probably about 6 weeks along (1st day of my last period was Aug 26). But I would like to come in and see you as soon as I can.  I have been having a very barely light brown bleeding for a few days, just when I wipe. What would you like me to do? Call the nurse?" I sent that at 7:11 am October 7.  He responded at 9:59 am "Come on in!!!"  When he responded I was in the middle of teaching my HiiT class.  We finished at 11am and I called to office to make sure he let them know I was coming in, I've worked at a doctor's office and it is very annoying to the staff when the doctor tells people to come in and they are not on the schedule, so I wanted to make sure they were aware.  They told me he had a family emergency, and wasn't in the office.  I told them about my text, and got put on hold, and finally someone said come in at 1 pm, he has been waiting for you all morning. Whoops, he only texted me an hour ago.  So I hurried to get there on time, actually 30 minutes early. I got there and everyone was on their lunch break.  I was nervous. Maybe the test was wrong and I am going to look like an idiot. And why am I spotting? That can't be good either. Finally, they all got back from lunch, and the nurse took me back.  They did a pregnancy pee test, their's was positive too, whew!! They took some blood to check my HCG levels, that takes about an hour.  Then they took me to get an ultrasound.  I was very nervous to see.  I was hoping it all looked ok.  It was another trans-vaginal ultrasound, though uncomfortable, I am grateful that it is possible to look and see.  And there it was, a little black circle on the screen.

  A gestational sac. It was there. I was pregnant.  I asked the sonographer, "is it in the right spot?" I was so worried it was ectopic.  "Nope, it's in your uterus, right in a good spot".  It wasn't real, I couldn't believe it.  I had come to terms that this wasn't possible, and now I am looking at the gestational sac that will house my baby.  It was too early to actually see the baby, so this was normal.  I was stunned.  She printed me off a little picture and labeled the gestational sac as "baby's house".  I went to another room to wait on the doctor.  He came in and gave me a hug, and asked me what I was looking at.  I said "my baby's house".  He was thrilled.  He told me getting pregnant is a miracle, but this was even a bigger miracle, because of all the things my body had gone through.  I learned later, that that morning Dr. Waddell had found out his Dad had passed away, he said it was the miracle he needed that day.  My HCG levels were at about 20,000, which was good.  My sac measured around 6 weeks, but it was still kind of early to tell.  Normally he would have had me come back in 4 weeks, where I would be about 10 weeks along, as a regular patient would come in.  But he said he knew that neither he nor I could wait that long, he wanted to see a heartbeat.  He said through no fault of my own, that my age gave me a 1/4 chances of having a miscarriage, and there was nothing I could do to change my age.....unfortunately, believe you me, I have tried ;)  But once we hear a heartbeat, the chance for miscarriage goes down to 5%.  So we both were very anxious to hear that heart beat. So he scheduled me to come back in two weeks. I asked about the spotting.  He told me it wasn't normal, but it wasn't uncommon, and unless it is bright red, we shouldn't worry too much about it.  However, I think I truly have a worry gene that runs in my family.  So, my little fear cloud settled in the back of my mind, ever present, but I was trying to ignore it.

     So, two weeks later, I went back in, still spotting, and still completely stressed about it. That morning as I got dressed to go to the doctor, I noticed I had some bright red blood, just a little, and it began to freak me out.  In my doctor's office, there are two locations to have an ultrasound.  One upstairs in the main office area, and one downstairs.  Well, this time, I went to the downstairs part for my ultrasound.  The Sonographer brought me back in the room.  Again, a lovely trans-vaginal ultrasound, as she began to look, for maybe like a second, she noticed my bladder was extremely full. ( I had in my mind that a full bladder would show the baby more, but that only really applies to when you are further along.)  So, she told me I needed to go upstairs, because they would want to check my urine anyways, and then we could do the ultrasound.  So I went upstairs, peed in the cup and they drew my blood to check my beta HCG levels (Human Chorionic Gonadotropin; the pregnancy hormone) and see if they were rising.  Again, that test takes an hour.  After they drew my blood, they told me that they would just do the ultrasound upstairs.  Which was fine, I thought.  So I waited and waited.  Thinking I was next.  The nurse whispered to me, "The doctor needs to be here for you scan, so do you mind if that other patient goes before you"  "That's fine"  It didn't bother me, at first....but then I got to my over thinking business.  Why would the doctor need to be here for my scan?? Is that normal?  Then I began to worry, maybe for that tiny second the Sonographer downstairs  saw something that was weird, and wanted the doctor to do that scan and break some kind of bad news to me.  They really shouldn't let you sit and think to yourself too long in a doctors office, especially when you are worried that you might lose your baby. I texted my sister in law, Adrianne, she was watching Addie for me at the time.  She is a nurse practitioner and I asked her professional opinion, about the situation.  That this couldn't be good, that the doctor has to do the scan, what does it mean??  She tried to reassure me that it didn't necessarily mean anything, and asked if I was alone.  I do better at the doctors alone, if I have someone there with me, and it is stressful, I am more apt to start bawling.  So, I actually prefer it, because it helps me be less emotional. So, after waiting for what felt like forever, Dr Waddell returned and took me back in for the scan. As we walked in, my Mother in law, Teresa, appeared.  I grateful she came, Adrianne must have called her, but it made me worry that I was going to lose my cool and not be able to contain my emotions, especially if there was bad news.  I mentioned to him that my spotting had continued and today some of it was red.  He acknowledged my Mother in law, she is also his patient, and she mentioned that Adrianne had called her.  He said "Oh, she called me too"  Adrianne!!!   I said "That's it! I'm never telling her anything again!"  I know she did it out of love and concern.  I just like to be the quiet unassuming patient, no extra attention required.  But it was ok.  The real issue was the bleeding, and my concern.  It was good to know that I had several people who cared about me involved too.  I laid back and we looked.  The gestational sac was there, and there looked to be something in it, me and my lack of knowledge assumed and hoped it was the baby.  But it wasn't.  It was a little white mass in there.  The doctor thought it was maybe placental tissue, he didn't really say much.  But there wasn't a fetal pole, and though there was change, it wasn't what he wanted to see.  But he said, "Let's not yell defeat in the jaws of victory"  Babies are all different, they read at different times, they ride bikes at different times, and they grow at different times.  He then asked me "Sarrah, if your kids got lost in the woods, how long would you look for them"  Naturally I said, "Until I found them".  "Well, then let's not give up hope yet.  He wanted to do a 24 hour blood test to see how my HCG levels rose, they were currently at 83,000, which was very positive.  I would come in the next day for that.  It was an uneventful visit, drew my blood, and they had risen to about 86,000.  Going up was good, and they do eventually plateau around 100,000-120,000.  We decided  to wait a week, and I would come in the next Monday for another ultrasound, to see if we had any growth.

    I was a mess, why aren't we seeing much change?  What is happening inside there.  Please, my little miracle, please grow!  It was a long week.

The spotting continued, but seemed to be easing up some, maybe it was finally done, and everything would be ok.  It was just a horrible fear every time I would go to the bathroom, that something scary would come out.

    Of course, during all of this, I was punishing myself with google searches.  There were happy stories and there were sad and scary stories.  My Mom had come to the conclusion that I had a friable cervix, and that it was just super sensitive.  It seem after an ultrasound or after a bowel movement I would notice more spotting.  I would study different ultrasound pictures, trying to find one that looked like mine, with that little white mass in it.  What was that?  And maybe I ovulated different than I thought and I was just further behind.  Please miracle bean, grow...do something.

   So, I went in that next Monday, back to the downstairs ultrasound.  It had been a week, and I was hopeful that some kind of growth had to have happened.  I was hoping I would see the heart beat, and all this fear could be put behind me. I waited outside the room, hopeful.  I began looking at emoticons I could text that would show I heard the heart beat.  I was trying to be so confident. The ultrasound began and the sonographer didn't say anything to me.  From what I saw last time, it looked pretty much the same. She just did measurements and clicked pictures.  I was waiting, hoping that she would say something, anything.  She pulled the little wand out and was done, told me to go upstairs.  Dread began to creep in.  This, this couldn't be good.  Maybe she isn't allowed to say anything? And wants to save it for the doctor.  I don't know, but surely if she saw the baby, she would have said so?? Wouldn't she?  I made my way upstairs, peed in a cup.  They didn't draw blood this day.  I waited and waited to see the doctor.  He looked at the pictures she took, and said he didn't see a whole lot of change.  But he wanted to look at it in real time for himself.  He knew my pregnancy would be different from other pregnancies, and maybe he could see something she didn't.  I went back out to wait for the upstairs ultrasound room.  There were probably 5 ladies waiting, with bulging bellies to go in.  Dr Waddell saw this, talk to a few nurses and the sonographer, and all the ladies got sent downstairs and when the room was cleared, I went right in.  He wasn't playing around :)  So, we looked again.  He talked to the sonographer and said, you can't look at her uterus like a regular uterus.  He briefly explained my history, and what may look like a polyp, could very well be scar tissue. He zoomed in and studied that gestational sac.  He tried to find something in there.  He was earnest and did everything he could to see something, anything that would indicate life.  He zoomed in, tried to focus on an area to maybe possibly hear a heart beat, a heart beat that couldn't even be seen.  I appreciated his determination.  And he didn't want to give up hope.  I was beginning to really get scared.  He told me to come back in that Friday for another scan, and hopefully we would see something.  He wasn't being all positive, he was also being realistic.  He said it could possibly be a molar pregnancy, where an fertilized egg just doesn't develop fully, but exhibits being pregnant through HCG levels and symptoms.  That some babies are not meant for this world, that maybe they are too special to live here in this crazy world.  But, then again, maybe all will be well, and it's just slowly developing.  He told me this baby was not just a miracle for me, but a miracle he needed, and that he wanted to hold this miracle.  I agreed.  I didn't want to give up.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  Why would Heavenly Father give me this most amazing miracle and just take it away??  The human body is amazing and can do amazing things.  My body has had 2 healthy babies, it knows what to do.  There is more to this baby than just chance.  And I had thought a lot about this.  I didn't think this was even possible, to be pregnant, ever again.  I had given up on that possibility, and had accepted it.  But here I was pregnant.  And that it even happened, even if it were just for a moment....it happened!  That in itself was a miracle!!!  And if I just had this little person in me for a moment, that in itself would be an incredible blessing that I never thought would ever happen.  I would lay in bed and marvel at the fact that I was pregnant.  And if something did happen, maybe it could happen again.  But, then my fear cloud would say, but what if it couldn't.  So, I went to set my appointment for that Friday, but we learned that the doctor would be out of town that day, and that I should come in Thursday.  I was glad that I didn't have to wait until Monday, but I wanted to wait as long as I could to let the little miracle bean  grow.  But, Thursday it was.

    It is amazing how slow days can go by.  No matter how much you try to fill them up. I was still feeling nauseated, which I was grateful for, because although it is not fun, it was very welcome because that if a very positive symptom of a healthy pregnancy.  So, when I was feeling so gross and terrible, I was happy.  I am not one to throw up.  With my pregnancy with Porter, I threw up once.  And my pregnancy with Addie, I threw up once.  I felt a few intense weeks of nausea, but I am just not one to throw up a lot.  I hate to throw up, and when you are pregnant, it doesn't give you the relief it does when you are sick, well, at least not for me.  I hadn't thrown up yet with this one, but I was waiting for it.  The Wednesday before my appointment, I went to the bathroom, and a glob of stuff came out. It's amazing how paranoid I had become of the bathroom, and how raw I had wiped myself.  It was a nasty discharge, not to be totally disgusting, but it resembled barbecue sauce.  It totally freaked me out.  I had to accept the fact that I might be losing this baby, that the end might be near.  I remember driving my son to scouts and picking him up, and being so focused and every little feeling I had, like a was about to pass the baby.  I had looked at images on Google of miscarriages, I do not recommend.  One of them they had a blob of blood in their hand, and the little sac, and then they removed the sac and there was a teeny tiny little bean, with two little eyes, and teeny little stubby arms.  It was more than I could bear to look at.  I couldn't do that, I could handle that!  The rest of the night I didn't spot anymore, although I waited all night for cramps to begin, and red blood to appear, but it never did. 

      Thursday, when I went to the office, I had no real hope at seeing anything on the ultrasound.  I knew that BBQ sauce discharge could not be good.  It was not bright red, but it was maroon in color and thick and kind stringy. (life is not fun when you carefully inspect your discharge).  My ultrasound was downstairs.  Oh great, the same lady that doesn't talk.  Here we go.  She asked how I was doing.  I told her I started spotting again and it was thick and dark reddish brown.  She said, well that's good, that means it's old blood.  I hated that answer...at one point, it was new blood!  She asked if I had been cramping, and I told her no.  So we then we started the ultrasound.  My hope to see anything was very low, I was trying to detach myself from home, and prepare myself for what was to come.  I was prepared for her to click a lot of pictures and not say anything and send me on my way like before.  I was trying to build up a defense in my heart.  But then she talked as she looked. "Oh my goodness! Do you see that??"  I could see something, a little tiny bean, next to that white mass that was in there. "Yes"  "Well, that's the baby!" 

     Tears began to stream down my face.  "Oh my goodness, did you see that??"  "What?"  "Did you see that flicker???" "Yes.."  "That's the heart beat!!!!"  The tears continued.  I was so prepared to just call it quits, and then this.  I could see the beautiful halo of the yolk sac around my little bean, with a little flicker beat.  She told me to hold my breath as she tried to get us to hear the heartbeat.  We couldn't quite hear it, but it measured at 71 bpm.  Which is kind of low for a baby, but not bad.  I was confused, where did this all come from.  So I asked her what the baby was measuring at, according to my period I was 8 weeks 2 days.  She told me I was measuring at 5 weeks 6 days, it was no wonder that we hadn't seen anything, and it was a few days early to actually 'hear' the heart beat anyway, that usually happens at 6 weeks.  She told me I must have come in when I was barely barely pregnant.  We did the math, and the day I came in, according to the measurements now, I was 3 weeks one day....which actually means the baby was there for only 1 week 1 day, because you are given those 2 weeks for your period, it doesn't make sense all that, but the fetal age would have been 1 week 1 day.  That made so much sense as to why we hadn't seen what we wanted to see sooner.  I must ovulate at differently then we thought.  All that matter was there was that little bean, that little baby, with a heart beat, growing in my belly.  She clicked a few more pictures and did a few more measurements.  Then she put up a 2 of the same picture side by side.  On one side she typed 'Yolk Sac 1', and the other side she typed 'Yolk Sac 2??'  Whoa.....wait.  What does that mean?  She wasn't totally positive on that, but she had to record it, and it was possible.  So, there is definitely one, and possibly 2??? Twins?? Possibly identical twins??? Oh my goodness.  I couldn't believe it.  I had resigned myself to believe that this was the end, but in fact it was the glorious beginning!  She printed me off a couple of pictures of the ultrasound, that I instantly treasured.  Then she told me, Congratulations!  At that moment, I didn't care about the BBQ sauce discharge, the spotting for weeks and weeks. There is a little person in there, I saw it!  And seeing the heart beat, doesn't that mean my chance for miscarriage goes down to 5%!?!?  It was the greatest news ever!  I couldn't wait to see Dr Waddell and show him the pictures.  He of course was tickled and so happy.  He said "I'm glad I came to work today!!" We accepted the measurements, and sure it set us back a couple of weeks, but who cares!? The baby was there.  The doctor wanted me to come in back in 2 weeks, for another ultrasound so we could see the growth, and actually 'hear' the heart beat. It was a great day! I sent a text to everyone the picture of my little miracle bean!  I sang loud to all the songs on the car on the way home.  We hadn't told our kids we were pregnant yet.  I wanted to hear the heart beat first.  And I hadn't actually heard it, I saw it.  I decided to stick to my guns, I wanted to hear the heart beat before I told them, I had already decided that.  If they paid any attention, at all, they should have known. I had actually told a lot of people, more than I probably should have. But I teach a work out class, my students would notice if I was slacking up, so I felt it reasonable to tell them.  And word about pregnancy seems to spread in a ward like wildfire. So, it was a shock that my kids hadn't put two and two together, especially Porter. (But who knows, maybe he has and just hasn't said anything??)  People telling me 'Congratulations' left and right. But my kids don't really care to listen to what adults talk about.  I planned to record their reaction.  I was excited for Addie to learn that she would finally be a big sister.  But I would have to wait 2 more weeks to tell them.  The baby would be about 8 weeks then, I could wait a little longer.

    For a while there, I was on this high of relief.  I could breathe easier.  I felt a little more secure, and my fear cloud, though it remained, was not so prominent.  My spotting continued, and that really bugged me.  But, it seemed to be easing up some.  I would find I would have more after the trans-vaginal ultrasounds, but I assumed because that was kind of irritating my insides.  Maybe it was just irritating my cervix, and maybe my cervix was the problem, maybe my Mom was right, that I had a friable cervix.  And even though that was not necessarily a good thing, it wasn't a bad thing for a pregnancy.  That Saturday it seemed as if my spotting was really starting to go away.  More relief.  That Sunday I went to Church, felt pretty good.  No spotting.  When I got home from Church to change, I went to the bathroom, and the spotting was back.  I was aggravated, but trying to not let it bother me.  Later that afternoon, I had more of the BBQ sauce-like discharge.  It was very much messing with my mind.  How could I relax with this stuff continuing to happen??  My fear cloud became more prominent that day.  I regained my paranoia for the bathroom. Looking down after every pee.  Scared to strain on a bowel movement, like something might accidentally get pushed out.  I began to have strange nightmares about bleeding in my bed, and having a miscarriage.  I was seriously tormented by my worst fear.  And I know that Satan will do whatever he can to mess with you mind, and mess with your faith.  Well, he was doing a pretty good job.  But throughout the week, the spotting again seemed to be trickling off.  Maybe just a little here and there.  Sometimes it was like brown little fibrous tissues.  Everyone tried to reassure me that things would be ok.  That if nothing had happened at this point, all would be well.  I just wasn't so sure.  But as the spotting continued to lighten up, so did my hope.  I felt better.  I made sure I took a nap every day, mandatory by my own decision.  I was trying to take care of myself.  Not pushing myself hard at all.  Eliminating unnecessary things. I was on pelvis rest.  Halloween came and went.

  I felt like I was thickening up some around my waist and into my rear end and thighs.  I was excited to see my belly grow.  I would lay in bed and just rest my hand on it, marveling at the little life that was actually growing inside of me.  I was so grateful to my Father in Heaven for this miracle.  That if I had a hard day, or something difficult happened, I could always come home and smile, because I was pregnant, and that was a miracle. 

     The Sunday before my doctor's appointment I got to teach the lesson.  The subject came from the First Presidency message by Henry B. Eyring " A Prayer of Faith".  It was perfect.  How many times had I prayed, hoping that this miracle that was happening would happen.  That prayers worked.  My lesson focused more on the hard times.  That we had to trust in the Lord and lean not on our own understanding.  I had been having a lot of prayers through this pregnancy, pleading that everything would be ok.  But no matter what, we will have amazing, miraculous times, and we will also have hard times, but if we include our Father in Heaven in all of those times, they will be easier, they will be better.  It's the hard times in our lives that truly make us stronger.  I shared a poem with everyone.  Here is it:

 Good Timber

by Douglas Malloch 

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.
The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.
Good timber does not grow with ease:
The stronger wind, the stronger trees;
The further sky, the greater length;
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.
Where thickest lies the forest growth,
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.

   I shared this poem because I know that we all will have hard times, and how we respond during this times will determine if we will become stronger.  But, I shared the poem for everyone else, not for me, things were finally starting to lighten up.  I had taken the footsteps in the darkness to see the way lighted ahead a foot step or two.  I had taken that leap of faith, and trusted in the Lord.  At least so I thought.

      My spotting came and went, but truly felt like it was about to end. Some days it would be so light!  It was a private little victory to me.  I got out more the week before my appointment.  I went to the store and I bought some cute maternity shirts and a dress.  Soon, this belly would need new clothes to cover it, it was growing a baby, maybe even two.  I wasn't getting my hopes up thinking it was two.  I read a lot, yes on google, about how often time 2 yolk sacs are seen early on, but one often absorbs, and doesn't grow.  That is often why they don't do ultrasounds so early, because people think, oh no I lost a twin, when really it may have just been a little fluke thing.  But, as I did some research about being pregnant with twins I learned that spotting was pretty normal with a multiple pregnancy.....that would explain a lot.  High HCG levels early on in a pregnancy is another indication of twins or more, and early nausea and intense nausea are another indication.  All of which I had.  So maybe, just maybe!!  I promised myself that I was more than happy with just one healthy baby, two would just be a huge bonus!

   Everyone was getting excited, everyone wanted to know if we were having twins.  My appointment was Thursday, my spotting had been consistently light.  I began to have a theory on my spotting.  I thought possibly as my uterus was growing, left over menstruation stuff, that may have been trapped due to leftover scar tissue caused by the Asherman's Syndrome was being released.  That made sense in my mind.  My uterus was not unscathed from what it had gone through years before. So, maybe these fibrous tissues and dark brown BBQ sauce discharge was finally being able to leave my uterus as my uterus expanded for the growing baby.  It was a comforting thought to me, and it helped me be less concerned and paranoid about the spotting.  It was the first time that I was actually excited and not completely a nervous wreck to have my ultrasound.  We had seen the baby, just two weeks ago.  It should be bigger now, and maybe we would see two.  I was excited, Thursday couldn't come fast enough.  But, darn it, my appointment was late in the day, at 4:00 pm.  Patience is a virtue.....just not mine.

    Thursday arrived, at last.  I listened to Coldplay on the way to the doctor, "Yellow", there's a part in it: "Your skin and bones, turn into something beautiful"  Oh, I knew my baby would, just a teeny tiny little bean, turning into a precious person.  I couldn't wait to hold this little person.  For them to see the stars, and how they shine, just for them. And that I would do anything for this precious spirit.

    I entered in the office and stayed on the downstairs floor, and went straight to the ultrasound place.  Signed in and sat down.  Received a few texts, "let me know right away when you find out!!!"  "1 or 2?!?!?!"  I could only smile. I wish right now, I could just pause it there, pause this whole story.  That what would happened next would be different, but if it had been, none of this would have been written.  A different sonographer got me this time.  Maybe she was new, I didn't know.  I went back in, took off my pants and sat in the little chair. But I wasn't nervous today, just excited. Did you know the gel they use is a warming gel, just a very insignificant tidbit of information.  The ultrasound began.  It always takes a moment to get things situated and in the right spot. But instantly, I could tell something was different, something was very wrong.  The sonographer didn't say anything. Began clicking measurements and snapping the photos.  I don't know how to describe what I saw, but everything looked scrambled.  And I hate to use that term, since it was an actual fertilized egg, and now it was all scrambled.  There really is no humor in it, but it was the only accurate way I could describe it.  There was no longer that single dark circle.  Instead there were several, they were scattered from  what I could tell. Just remnants of once was. There was no longer a little bean on that screen.  There was no longer a little flicker beat of a heart.  It didn't feel real.  My body, my mind, my soul, and my heart couldn't process it.  I heard the sonographer say "I'm sorry".  I'm sorry.  What does that mean?  What happened??? Where is my baby???  I couldn't speak, I was in total confusion and shock.  This is not what I was expecting at all.  This was supposed to be fun, this ultrasound was supposed to tell me that everything was progressing fine. That I might be having identical twins!!!  This was not happening. It couldn't be.  She whispered "You're baby isn't there anymore", and stopped the ultrasound.  She was mistaken.  She had to be.  I sat up.  I stared at the wall.  She's wrong.  She's new and just has no clue how to do an ultrasound, that has to be it.  This could not be happening.  The tears wouldn't come, this wasn't happening, my whole being wouldn't accept it, wouldn't acknowledge it...I couldn't.  The sonographer left the room.  I didn't move.  I imagine, when a bomb goes off, or a gun that is shot close to your head, you know like in the movies, the people are stunned.  Everything goes quiet.  They forget where they are, have that moment of stupor.  Look around at their surroundings to try to get some sense of where they were and what just happened.  That's how it was.  I looked around, I noticed the kleenex in my hand, she must have given to me.  I stared at it.  I looked at the big empty screen on the wall.  I looked at the monitor next to me.  On the bottom of the screen I could see the pictures from the last ultrasound, with my little baby, so teeny tiny.  Where was my baby now?!  The door opened and the other Sonographer came in.  The "Oh my goodness" one.   I could tell she wanted to look, she asked me how I was, and what was going on.  "I don't know".  She saw it. She saw my baby when I did, 2 weeks ago.  How could this happen?? She could hardly believe it herself two weeks ago.  I could tell she was invested in this miracle too.  And maybe she doubted the other sonographer, maybe there was something the other lady missed??  Heck, I didn't know.  Maybe somehow she had it on the wrong setting.  So, we tried again.  A tiny spark of hope light inside me, like maybe there was just some freak mistake and it everything would be ok.  But as the ultrasound began, the same horrific scene appeared before me.  The scattered mess in my uterus.  Like it had been ransacked.  But I wasn't bleeding.  I wasn't cramping.  My spotting had significantly lightened up. How? How did this happen??  The tears started to come now. This was real.  This wasn't a nightmare that I would wake up from soon, this was a nightmare that I would have to live through.  They told me they would go get the doctor.  They both left the room.  I sat up.  I held my face in my hands and wept.  I don't like to cry in front of people, truth is I do my best not to.  I have a concern that I have a seriously ugly cry face, and I like to keep it to myself.  I felt totally alone, yet totally beside myself.  I could hear the gasps and the cries coming out of my mouth, but as if I was just there listening.  I felt numb.  And I felt like I alone in there for hours.  I couldn't make sense of it.  5%. 5%!  I'm sorry, I felt like 95% was a darn good chance that everything was OK.  But somehow I landed in that 5%.  And then the thought struck me....when did this happen?  Because surely it didn't just happen today.  When  did my baby die??  What was I doing?? I was totally oblivious to the fact that my child died, right inside of me....I had no idea.  Maybe I was buying that cute maternity shirt that now I might never wear.  Maybe I was washing dishes.  Maybe it happened when I was yelling at Porter to stop teasing Addie.  Maybe it happened when I was feeling irritated when Thomas was crunching ice in his mouth when we were watching TV.  Maybe it happened during the night when I was asleep.  Maybe it happened at the gym. Maybe it happened on Halloween when I was running around dressed like a cat.  Maybe it happened when I was teaching my lesson of having a prayer of faith.  It happened.  And I missed it.  This little tiny precious life, drifted away from me, and I didn't even notice or realize.  If I could just poke a tiny little hole in my heart, so it could just relieve the pressure,  it felt like my heart could just burst.  I wept alone.  I was all alone. In a dark room, no one there, my little miracle bean was not there anymore.  Finally Dr Waddell came in  "What happened?" He asked, I had no answer.  He gave me a hug.  Then he asked, "So, when did you start bleeding?"  "That's just it" I said, " I never started bleeding.  My spotting actually seemed to be stopping" I managed to say without my voice cracking.  He wanted to see for himself.  Maybe there was something the sonographers didn't see.  My uterus was different, my uterus had gone through a lot of thing that others hadn't gone through.  Maybe he could make some sense of it.  Maybe this time, everything would be put back together again.  Gosh, saying that sounds like the rhyme of Humpty Dumpty.  In a strange way it was true, my little precious egg had broken, and no one could put it back together again.  We looked again. Same sad sight on the screen. She zoomed in, she lingered on different images. There was a large cyst on my right ovary, but that had been there, it wasn't something to worry about.  Tears just streamed down my face.  I was tired of looking at the wreckage.  I was tired of not seeing what should be on that screen.  What should be up there was my baby, or even my two babies.  And I should have been able to see and HEAR a strong heart beat.  That was all I wanted.  The ultrasound ended.  Dr Waddell wheeled his chair over and grabbed my hand.  "This is so sad" he said.  This was a miracle that he needed when his Dad had passed too.  This baby was special to a lot of people.  He squeezed my hand.  "So, what's next?", I asked,  already knowing the answer.  It wasn't one of those moments where I had a Mother's intuition moment, where I knew the doctor was wrong and that my baby would pull through.  I knew it was over. I could see for myself that it was over. And I knew I would have to have a D&C.  He said there was a lot of tissue in there, and it could cause some problems to pass it on my own.  Some miscarriages take weeks and weeks of bleeding and cramping.  My body had obviously not realized yet what had happened and hadn't started the process of getting rid of things on it's own.  We could do it in the morning, he said, or Monday, whenever I was ready.  Flashes of previous surgeries echoed in my mind.  I didn't want to do this again.  Just weeks ago when I was visiting a friend in the hospital I felt that feeling of dread of being in the hospital, of surgery, of recovery.  How would I tell everyone?  So many people knew we were pregnant, too many people knew.  How could I face anyone, ever?  They told me to get dressed and go upstairs and talk to the nurse about scheduling the D&C.  Again I was alone in the room. I stood up and wiped the gel away, it was tinged with blood.  I put my clothes back on, and sent a quick text to Thomas: "I can't really talk, blubbering.  We lost the baby.  They want to do a D&C. Tomorrow or Monday. Which day would be best for you?"  Felt weird, what day would be best?  Nothing about this was good or convenient, but let's plan it around other things?? Just felt weird.  But we had to get things together, get someone to watch the kids.  Arrangements had to be made. "Tomorrow" was his reply, followed by "I am so sad to hear that"  I sent a text to my Mom, I had to be to the point, but how do you break this news, to anyone? "Can't talk. We lost the baby. I have to schedule a d&c" It was hard to press the send button, because I know this news would hurt her about as much as it hurt me. But I sent it.  I walked out of the ultrasound room, attempted to compose myself, but that was useless.  The nurse walked me up a private flight of stairs, so I didn't have to go through the waiting room, I appreciated that.  I said down in the scheduling nurse's room.  Quietly Christmas music was playing, it was November 6, but that's just how Carla is.  She is sweet and kind and gentle.  I sent a text to my sister in law, Adrianne.  She worked at the hospital, I wanted her to be there.  I sent her a text.  I couldn't call anyone, I couldn't speak. Texting can really be a blessing, seriously.  "What days do you work this week?" "Or next", I needed to get to the point or she wouldn't understand the urgency. "We lost the baby. I have to get a D&C"  She expressed her sorrow and let me know she worked until Sunday.  So, I would have the D&C the next morning. Carla came in, she was gentle.  She called the hospital, the doctor's schedule was already full, but they put me first.  He had 2 hysterectomies scheduled, hopefully I wouldn't get confused for one of those.  And it gave me a little perspective, there was still a glimmer of hope, at least my uterus would stay, and that the possibility of getting pregnant again was still possible.  I needed to be at the hospital at 5:30 am. They would take some blood and get my paperwork done then.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, I am sure I looked a hot mess of tears.  This was not how I saw this day going.  It was scheduled and I made my way to my car.  I hoped I could drive home safely, I hoped I could see through my veil of tears that wouldn't stop.  I sat down in my car, started the engine and took a deep breath.  A thought entered my mind, that I feel like literally made a small rip in my heart.....today was the day I was going to tell Porter and Addie that we were having a baby.  I was grateful that I had waited, and not told them, because I truly don't think I could handle trying to explain to them what had happened.  But this was supposed to be such a special day, of joy, of peace, or seeing the look on my children's faces as they learned that a new brother or sister was coming.  But instead, it was the opposite, of all of that.  I put my headphones in.  I needed a song. Ever since I was small, music was important to me. Soothing.  There was a song, a feeling for every moment.  A song to escape to.  A song that understood me, whether I was happy, or sad, or in love, or lonely, or anything.  Music has always been my friend. I try to surround myself in music.  I have like zero musical talent, but I appreciate it more than anyone I know!!  I drove there listening to Coldplay, and I started to drive home, but listening to 

"Fix You"

 When you try your best, but you don't succeed When you get what you want, but not what you need When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep Stuck in reverse
And the tears come streaming down your face When you lose something you can't replace When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you
And high up above or down below When you're too in love to let it go But if you never try you'll never know Just what you're worth
Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face When you lose something you cannot replace Tears stream down your face And I...
Tears stream down your face I promise you I will learn from my mistakes Tears stream down your face And I...
Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you

Who could fix me? Who could fix this?  I lost something, and there was no replacement.

          I drove home, to an empty dark house.  Thomas had gone to pick up the kids, I figured he was at his parents' house.  I hadn't talked (Texted) to anyone since I left the doctor's office.  I dropped my purse, and staggered down the hallway to my bedroom and dropped to my knees.  I didn't know what to say.  What could I say?  I was so confused, and angry at my Heavenly Father.  Why would he give me this most incredible blessing and miracle to just take it away??  That for weeks I had been on this crazy roller coaster, filled with highs and lows, worries, fears, hope and the stuff dreams were made of.  I knew this pregnancy was a miracle, like a biblical miracle.  My body shouldn't have been able to do it on it's own, medically it really shouldn't have happened.  So there was more to it all.  And I knew that, I believed that.  But throughout, my faith had wavered, the ever present spotting had me worried and doubting and fearing.  Maybe my faith just wasn't strong enough?  Did me doubting this miracle take it all away?  Was it something I did?  Did I cause this?  Was working out too much? Did I not get enough rest?  Maybe if I had prayed more? Maybe if I had read my scriptures more consistently? Maybe if we had Family Home Evening every week?  Maybe I was being punished because I had yelled too much at my other kids?  Maybe I wasn't worthy to have any more Spirit children of my own?  I hadn't proved myself worthy of such a blessing? Had I been too selfish?  Had I told too many people?  Was this a punishment for something I had done?  I cried to my Father in Heaven, "Why did you take this away?" I placed my hand on my belly, where I had before, but it now it meant something different.  An emptiness was creeping in.  I screamed, I punched the bed, I fell against the bed in exhaustion.  It felt kind of like I was resting my head on the chest of my Father in Heaven, I knew He was hurting for me too.  He couldn't take this away, He knows that I need to be patient, He knows that I need to put my trust in Him, He knew/knows I'm hurting and felt like I couldn't bear it, He knew I was angry with Him, He knew I couldn't fully understand.  He felt my grief.  I felt a soft tender Spirit in the room.  But, I also felt defeated, I knew He knew.  He knows me, He didn't leave me alone.  He couldn't take all my grief, because I am selfish, I clung to it, I'm still holding onto it.  I still can't fully understand, or wrap my head around it.  It was the last prayer I said for a while, because I still felt somewhat abandoned or maybe I was seeking 'the comfort of being sad'.  And it probably makes him  gently shake His head with a soft smile, and sigh, "Oh Sarrah".  I know I am a pain in the neck.

    I texted Thomas and told him I was home.  The kids were going to spend the night at his parents' house.  Thomas arranged for my friend to watch Addie when his parents had to go to work.  He told me he was on his way, I needed to pack an overnight bag for the kids.  I didn't want to think of the "to do list" that had to happen before I had to go to the hospital to take out the remains of my little one. I just wanted to be knocked out, and fast forward a few months.  I didn't want to deal with any of it.  Thomas came home.  I was on the bed,  had turned on the TV and let it do the thinking for me, have it help my mind escape. I turned it off.  He sat down and hugged me and we cried together for a while.  I tried to explain to him what had happened earlier.  I tried to explain my thoughts, that maybe I was being punished, that maybe it was because I was a bad Mom, or that my faith was wavering.  He consoled me the best he could, but truly how can you console a inconsolable person?!?! It's impossible.  He took the kids clothes and took them to his parent's house.  He came back, we watched a movie together, in a numbed silence.  We had to wake up early.  He fell asleep during the movie.  I hadn't called my Mom yet, I hadn't called anyone.  But I knew I needed to call her.  She would let everyone know.  And I knew that she was aching for me, needing me to call, needing to try to do whatever she possibly could, even if it was just crying along with me.  But I was exhausted, and I knew that talking to her would stir up all the pain that had begun to simmer as my mind was a little numb from the TV.  But then I thought of my children.  If this was happening to Addie, I would need her to call me, I would need to try and help too.  And I thought of my little lost one, if it could just talk to me, just once.  I owed it to my Mom being a Mother myself, that when your kids are aching and struggling, you are experiencing the same things and you are unable to take it away, but will do anything to try.  So I called her, we both just cried over the phone for a while.  I tried to relay all the things that had happened.  She just couldn't believe it.  She had been in agony too after I sent her the text. She didn't understand why this was happening.  That it just wasn't fair.  She didn't see the ultrasound, so she still wondered if there was a chance that a mistake had been made.  I assured her, I had seen 3 separate times, it was over, there was no chance that they were wrong.  I told her we were scheduled for the morning to have surgery.  I have heard so many stories, but not necessarily all the details, where the doctor tells the patient that there is no baby, but the patient has this feeling to wait, and then later they find a heartbeat, and how glad they had waited.  This was completely different.  We had seen nothing, for a while, then we saw the baby and the heart beat, and then we saw basically a little massacre inside.  There wasn't any hope of a mistake.  Although I didn't want to accept that, I just couldn't deny it.  We wept together and struggled with what had happened.  I told her I would have Thomas keep her updated while we were at the hospital.  We talked late into the night.

          I went and laid in bed.  I said a little prayer, let this all be a dream, and that I will wake up  from my nap that I took earlier today, my mandatory nap, and that the day will end differently.  It was a half hearted prayer, because I knew it wouldn't happen.  Sleep did not come easy that night.  Have you ever had one of those nights where you aren't totally sure if you slept at all?  You lay there, toss and turn, maybe lose consciousness  for a second, and then back to tossing and turning?  It was one of those.  Every time waking with that pit of emptiness in my stomach, the realization that in a few hours I would be in the hospital, having surgery, because my baby had died.  Miscarriage.  What a dumb word. The dictionary defines it: 1. the expulsion of a fetus before it is viable, esp. between the third and seventh months of pregnancy; spontaneous abortion.

2. failure to attain the just, right, or desired result: a miscarriage of justice.

3. failure of something sent, as a letter, to reach its destination.

  You know what I see there...failure.  What is a failure? The word failure definitely has a negative connotation.  "That guy is a failure" Makes you think of a loser, someone not worth it.  As I read the definition, some of it really did fit: Not achieving the desired results; the condition or fact of being insufficient, or falling short; a decline or loss; a person or thing that proves unsuccessful. BUT at no fault of it's own.  I had heard different opinions about miscarriages.  I heard someone say, they weren't really attached to the baby, it was just really a little set back.  Even typing that makes me cringe.  A set back??  Maybe a miscarriage is different to some people.  I know men wouldn't totally understand, simply because they had never experienced pregnancy.  But a woman told me this, and she had several kids.  Maybe something was wrong with me, because I felt very attached.  And maybe my situation is very different than a lot of other people.  Some people have miscarriages and not even realize it?!?! Some of them happen quicker than the person has time to grow attached.  But I was fighting for this baby from the beginning. From the moment I found out, on October 7, (wow, just noticed this) to the day of the D&C, November 7. One month. One whole month I was consumed with this baby. Rooting for, praying for, hoping for, fighting for.  It wasn't "just a set back" for me. It was so much more. Sleep was not happening that night.  The alarm was set for 4:30 am.  I showered. I felt hollow, I felt worn out. We walked outside, the moon was so full and glowed in the dark morning. We got into the car at 5, Thomas said a prayer.  It surprises me sometimes how many people are out and about so early.  I'm grateful that usually I am still in my bed at this time.  There was an accident on the bridge we needed to go on, so we took a detour.  The moon was  continued to shine bright, even as the sun was attempting to rise.  An impression came over me, I had felt it before.  But, brushed it aside usually.  However, I decided to tell Thomas.  "I think it was a boy".  "Why do you think that? "  "I don't know, I just feel like it was a boy"  I won't know that until after I die.  But it was an impression I got, and it gave me some comfort.  I was tired of calling my baby "it", "it" was a "he".    And maybe that sounds crazy. But whatever.  I have a 50/50 chance that I'm right.  And it gave me a little piece of peace, and I'm holding on to it.  We arrived at the hospital.  My surgery would be on the 5th floor, labor and delivery, it just didn't seem fair.  We walked down the hallway, the walls lined with beautiful pictures of preciously perfect babies.  It was almost cruel.  I got put in a room, I changed into my lovely hospital gown, and sat on the bed. I sat for a while, looking around the room. Thomas looking at his phone, I left mine at home I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't care who posted what on facebook, the weather made no difference to me, my inbox could have been full of junk mail about amazing sales, I didn't care.  This was this moment, I would save a little sense of stillness for my lost one.   The nurses got my information, and had little small chit chat that they knew my sister in law, Adrianne, or Doc Cronin, or someone else.  Several people know "The Cronin's" and thankfully in medical circles it is in a very positive way.  A lot of respect and admiration for many a Cronin.  And I have found, simply being related to certain members of the family, my treatment and care has been even greater, simply because of the impression left.  It truly is a blessing to have such amazing people in my family, whose job, especially in the medical field is more of a calling than anything else, and their colleagues even recognize that.  Adrianne, being one of them,  came up from her floor, to give me a smile, a hug, a tear.  The nurse inserted the IV.  "How many pregnancies have you had?"  I don't know why that question made me pause.  "3".  An acknowledgement. I appreciated that small question.  Because forever I can say that, if I never get pregnant again, I will still have been pregnant 3 times.  3 Spirits were entrusted to me.  It would always have mattered to me, but that medically it matters too.  It sickens me to think of women aborting their babies, kills me really.  I can't understand it, not even a little.  But that doesn't change the fact that they were pregnant, they can't hide from that, it's recognized.  Not that that really matters, but I get so tired of the arguments of prochoice as I laid here in the bed without the choice anymore to have my baby that was gone.  While some go, with that flickering heartbeat, pounding loud and clear and still choose to stop it, choose to kill a little precious soul.  That as many mothers weep and grieve over the loss, some consciously cause it.  I just don't get it.  Give that baby to me, I'll take it. I want it. The anesthesiologist came in, all my experience with anesthesiologists is that they are happy and upbeat, but I wasn't. This wasn't a fun exciting hospital stay, where I would leave with a precious little one.   I would leave with nothing.  I could appreciate his positive attitude, I just couldn't reciprocate. They gave me the 'loopy' medicine, and began to wheel me down the hall.  Watching the ceiling tiles, the passersby,  unconsciously looking at my belly, as if I should be more pregnant looking, maybe going for a c-section. Into the icebox of the surgery room, shifting my body to the next table, and not remembering anything else.

          I started to regain consciousness, laying with my eye close, assessing how my body felt.  My gut didn't hurt like I thought it should. It was tender but not painful.  But then this was a suction D&C, perhaps less evasive.  I breathed in the oxygen on my face. One eye managed to open, I tried to find a clock. I don't know why it mattered what time it was.  There was a glare from the overhead lights on the clock face, I thought maybe around 8:30? Couldn't tell, and not that it was even important. There was a nurse at a computer with her back to me.  My heart started to ache, as I became more conscious.  It was done.  All remnants of my baby were gone.  Where are they?  What do they do with them?  Just discarded? Just thrown out like trash?  The remains of my child, just gone.  It's weird, you are pregnant, it's recognized, it is noted, but the little body, that might not be totally recognized as a 'real' person, because it's not developed all the way, is thrown away?  No little hallowed moment, just dumped somewhere.  It was a hard thought.  There would be no funeral, no graveside, no formal name given, no certificate of life.  I came to the hospital, and would leave with nothing but hollowness, physically and spiritually.  The nurse noticed me waking up. Asked how I was.  What a silly question, I understood it was her job to know, but c'mon. I felt some blood trickle out and let her know, she said she would check, but she didn't. I had grown so tired of being so overly aware of the feeling of blood seeping out of me, would it ever stop? Then she randomly asked if I would like a flu-shot.  I am not fully conscious and you are asking me if I want a shot?  Felt strange, but I agreed, why not? The hospital wanted to give me something I guess.  They wheeled me back to the room I started in, where Thomas was.  They got me a Sprite.  I needed to drink and keep something down, and pee before I could leave.  I felt pretty fine, physically. A little uncomfortable, but not a lot of pain.  Thomas's phone rang, it was my Mom.  He looked at me, as if I would want to answer, I couldn't.  He answered.  I could hear her voice, her crying voice.  I listened to Thomas as he described what the doctor told him.  Dr. Waddell came up to chat with him after the surgery.  He said everything looked normal, like a normal natural miscarriage.  Which to me was a relief, because I had such a fear that something weird from my body had caused it, or maybe the pregnancy had been abnormal, or my placentas in general might be mutant.  But no, luckily, nothing abnormal, just normal.  I needed something to be normal, even as twisted as it sounds.  He said my uterus looked good.  We had wondered if they would do a hysteroscopy, where they would have a camera and look at the uterus.  He said they hadn't, simply because the uterus was already a little irritated with the miscarriage, and it wouldn't be helpful to look at that time.  I am sure he wanted to keep it as non traumatic as possible, since my uterus has had so much trauma from before and it caused more problems.  I assumed that is why they did a suction D&C, as to be more gentle than using a sharp curette. At least that is what I think.  I'm no doctor.  The nurse asked me to use the bathroom if I could, oh and finally remembered that I told her that I felt myself bleeding.  She gave me a rag and towel and I went to the bathroom.  There wasn't a lot of blood.  I dressed.  They removed the IV, and gave me instructions.  Pelvis rest for 2 weeks, no sex, no tampons. The doctor wrote me a strong prescription for pain, we didn't plan on filling it.  I wasn't hurting at all like I should.  She agreed, they were waiting for my IV bag to empty, it was pitocin, if I was going to feel strong or painful cramping, I should have felt it while that was pumping in me, and I hadn't. There was no need for pain medication, because it wouldn't make my heart feel any better. They wheeled me out in a wheelchair, standard protocol I guess.  We stopped at the curb, Thomas went to get the car to pull around.  The nurse tried to make small talk, I didn't mind the silence though, everything inside was numb.  My lap was empty.  No car seat, no baby snuggled inside, just my hands clenched together.  Thomas pulled around and I climbed in.  We drove home. There wasn't a lot to say.  My friend was watching Addie, he asked if we should drive there first,  "Please just take me home".  I didn't want to see anyone.  I didn't want to explain the whirlwind I had gone through in last 24 hours.  I wanted to be alone.  I didn't want to think.  We got home and I laid in the bed. Defeated.  Thomas mentioned, "Maybe you need to get on something, you know, to get through this."  I knew what he meant.  I had been on antidepressants before, anti-anxiety medication. I didn't even acknowledge it.  How would it really help?  It would be like a band aid on broken arm.  No medicine could touch this, could fix this. He meant well.  It might take off a little edge, but that just wouldn't be enough.  I would have to feel all of this, I would have to process it, I would have to figure it out, I would have to grieve, I would have to do it, no one or no medicine could do it for me.  I had to.  I numbed myself with movies.  Comedies to dramas.  The kids came home, I hadn't seen either of them since that day before.  They got to spend the night at Meme's & Double's, so I was not what they really wanted to see, they wanted to go back.  I understood, I was a bit of a downer.  What had anyone told them?  Mom has been in the hospital.  Did they ask why?  I know my kids love me, I know that, but sometimes the whole lack of interest in me hurts my feeling.  But they are kids, this was too heavy for them anyway.  I was feeling more bitter towards my Father in Heaven.  I didn't pray that night.  I laid in bed, knowing I should pray, but not doing it. Such a brat I can be.  Saturday I didn't do much.  Watched TV, ate, went to the bathroom.  I was spotting, but it was totally different then from the past month.  It was bright red, fresh, very light.  Another reminder that everything was different now.  It would hit me every now and again, the baby is gone.  I would put my hand on my belly, and ache, no more, not there.  It was one of my friend's birthday celebration, I couldn't go.  But I know they thought of me.  And if there is one thing during a crisis in your life, it is an outpouring of love from people you care about.  I knew they hurt for me, I knew they wanted to help.  They planned to feed us dinner every night.  I still had arms, I could still cook.  I didn't feel it was totally necessary, but I know that they wanted to do something for me, anything.  And it truly is a sweet gesture, heaven knows my family has definitely been enjoying it.  I'm a pretty darn good cook, to toot my own horn, however, I don't cook every night like a good woman should. But I will also say, my friend's are some pretty amazing cooks as well!!  So, needless to say, a gourmet home cooked meal every night has definitely been nice and welcome.  And I could feel it was cooked with all the love that they can give, and I deeply appreciate it.  I haven't made it easy either, I've just wanted to escape and disappear and hide, and I have been pretty successful.  I just am not ready for the "...no, but how are you...really?"  I didn't want that.  I didn't want all the looks at me like I was broken....even though part of me is.  I have always tried to be strong, hide my emotions, be stoic.  I don't want people to know just how weak I am, how sensitive, how fragile.  It's a huge flaw.  It's ok to show our imperfections, to feel out loud.  But it is something I have always struggled with, and avoiding people right now is the only solution.  It's selfish.  But I am going to be selfish for a little bit, and I don't feel bad about that.  But needless to say, I received numberless texts, and calls, and although they may have remained unanswered, I was grateful for the love and thoughts.  There are no words to say, it's just a terrible situation, but people have still tried and reached out and have tried to help me feel better or know that I am loved.  And I appreciate that.

       I missed Church, I probably could have gone, I didn't feel too horrible physically, I've been to church when I have felt worst, but this was different.  The regular tasks of the week, seemed surreal, like I wasn't really there. Driving Porter to school, staring straight ahead, in a fog.  I found a mixed CD that my friend had made for me a few years back.  I found a song on it I had forgotten, but it was so perfect, minus that part she says she isn't gonna cry, because that wasn't true, I was going to be crying.

"Bring On The Rain"   -Jo Dee Messina

"Another day has almost come and gone Can't imagine what else could go wrong Sometimes I'd like to hide away somewhere and lock the door A single battle lost but not the war ('cause)
Tomorrow's another day And I'm thirsty anyway So bring on the rain
It's almost like the hard times circle 'round A couple drops and they all start coming down Yeah, I might feel defeated, And I might hang my head I might be barely breathing - but I'm not dead, no ('cause)
Tomorrow's another day And I'm thirsty anyway So bring on the rain
I'm not gonna let it get me down I'm not gonna cry And I'm not gonna lose any sleep tonight ('cause)
Tomorrow's another day And I am not afraid So bring on the rain  Bring on the rain; bring on the rain Bring on the rain  Bring on, bring on, the rain"

I need to find the hope.  I need to find the light at the end of this dark tunnel. I need to eventually get passed this, not forget, never forget, but live through it.  Grieve it.  But eventually I do need to function.  I do need to continue living myself.  I am giving myself time. I'm allowing myself that.

     I have been weak, kinda sore and crampy, but not unable.  I slowly cleaned up the playroom and my kid's room.  The playroom garbage can was full, but it's half a garbage can, so the liner wasn't full, and we are running low and I like to conserve.  So I decided to empty out the bathroom garbage cans into this trash liner.  I went into my bathroom.  Our trash was super full, it takes forever for us to fill it, because the majority of the garbage goes in the kitchen garbage can.  So I carefully started dumping the contents into the liner.  Nearly the bottom, it kind of stopped dumping smoothly, and I had to push the stuff down in the bag.  As I was about to finish dumping, I looked in the bottom of our garbage can before I started. There it was.  My pregnancy test box.  A little stab in my heart.  I picked it up out of the garbage can, pulled the test out of the box.....still showing positive.  Tears drained out of my eyes.  It might sound gross, but I decided to keep it.  I grabbed a ziplock bag and put it in it.  Then I found a nice little box, to hold the little items that represented this baby.  A picture of the ultrasound that said "Baby!!"  My arm band from the hospital.  I put a copy of "Good Timber" in it too.

  I know that one day these hurt feelings will ease up, and I might not think about this little one every single day, although I hope I do, take a little moment and think about his little life, but I wanted some kind of memory, something tangible.  Something I could show my kids one day, when they were older and when they might be able to understand.  Though I had very little to show for my little baby, I wanted something to keep and treasure.

      I continued to feel love from those around me.  They didn't want me to suffer alone, although most of it I would have to.  I received cards in the mail, chocolate (dark, of course), music, texts, people would pick up Addie and take her for the day.  I started writing this, I didn't realize I would have so much to say.  One night, there was a knock at the door, the front door, which no one uses, so I peeked out the window. It was Fedex.  I hadn't ordered anything, I assumed it was for Thomas, some kind of part for a vehicle or piece of equipment.  But when I picked up the box, it was addressed to me. Huh.  I took it inside and I recognized the brand "Demaco", it was the willow tree brand.  I opened it, it was a precious figurine of an angel holding a baby.  It was titled "Angel's Embrace"  There was a packing slip in the box. It was from my sister, Caitlin.  There was a personal message included on the packing slip from her, and it was an even more tender gesture than the figurine that it came with.  It wasn't in fancy writing, it was written in a little box and had I not been looking for it, I might have overlooked it.  It simply said: "A baby so perfect it only needed a little flicker beat to gain eternal life."

Such powerful words, they struck me.  I hadn't thought of it that way. My tears flowed, as they had been doing so easy these days.  It was so sweet and so tender.  I just had an overwhelming sense of love, from everyone around me.  How much I knew people truly cared about me.  And by seemingly small gestures; a gift, a card, a dinner, a song, a figurine; they truly would never know just how much it meant to me.  That even though I may be alone in how I feel and my grieving, I have never been alone in this.  Even though I may have felt angry at Heavenly Father and the injustice of the situation, He didn't leave me alone, He sent His love through others.  It is truly touching, really how personal our Father in Heaven is to each one of us.  That He cares about every little and every big thing we go through.  And He has His angels standing by to attend us, even if we are mad at Him.  He is always there, with His hand extended to us, it's up to us to reach back. "Be Still My Soul, the Lord is on thy side"  Words to remember, words to live by.

    (Music arranged and performed by Stephen Canaan)

    I called the doctor's office to just see how long I would have to take to heal.  I am a very active person, I hate to sit around and rot.  I'm an instructor at the YMCA, I teach HiiT,  high intensity interval training, and I miss it!  I felt like the sooner I got back into life, the less agonizing this would be.  Living like a ghost in my house is not ideal.  I also wanted to know how long we would have to wait to try again.  I talked to the nurse, and she said I should avoid sex for 2 weeks to a month.  I asked her about exercise, and that depended a lot on the bleeding, and if that had stopped.  She told me a lot of the healing I would be doing would be emotional.  So when I felt up to it, then should I start getting back into it, but to ease in. High intensity is just that, highly intense, that's hard to 'ease' back into. My patience is very little too.  But, I need to do what my body can handle.  Then I asked when we could try again.  A lot of what I have read says that you are more fertile after a miscarriage, and a lot of people get pregnant right after.  I wasn't sure that was for a naturally passed miscarriage or if it included a D&C too.  Either way, I hadn't given up all hope.  I hope there is a chance that we can have another, maybe more.  The nurse told me that we should wait 2 menstrual cycles. 2?!  Ugh, that felt like forever!  It could take my body 6 weeks even to have it's first cycle, let alone waiting for 2. Ok, I said, she had answered all my questions.  And even though I didn't totally like the answers, it was what it was.  But, it nagged at me.  So, I decided to text the doctor and just voice my concern of possibly missing that window of opportunity.  I felt for sure that I should at least allow my body one cycle, that seemed responsible. So I asked him.  His response came quick "Wait 2 is standard, wait 1, I wouldn't fuss"  I just love him! Who knows, it might take us 20 cycles before it happens, it might not happen at all.  But my hope and prayer is it will happen, and that it will be a healthy and successful pregnancy.

     I scheduled my daughter to get her cavities filled, 5 of them, all at one time.  They medicated her to make it as least traumatic as possible.  But I had to carry her to the car, and into my house, and back out when we picked up Porter.  I worried that I may have overdone it. 

The next day, I had more bleeding then I have been having.  It is darker in color, and I have felt crampy.  A few waves of panic have tried to rush over me, but I am figuring it is from lifting her 40 pound body several times, dead weight too.  I am not going to be that patient though, I'm not going to call.  I know what they will say, unless I fill up a pad in an hour, I shouldn't worry.  I am just so tired of this vicious cycle of being so paranoid of what is happening to me, and what could happen next..  I have been slowly bleeding for an entire month, you would think I would be dead by now!! Just kidding.  I'm trying to stay positive. I am taking it easy, haven't really left my house much at all.  I have to be patient, which feels kind of impossible.

          I have had a lot of time to do a lot of thinking.  Which isn't always a safe thing.  But I have tried to answer the question "Why" myself.  Why did this have to happen?  This little miracle, vanished.  Perhaps the little Spirit, that gained a body and a beating heart, even  if it was for just a short period of time, maybe his purpose was a lot bigger than my little mind can fathom.  The usual cause for an early miscarriage is the embryo is not developing as it should. It could be because of chromosome problems.  The body's way of taking care of a potential problem.  Maybe that baby wouldn't have been perfect, but I still wanted him, any way, every way.   But I thought more, maybe my body needed a jump start, a reminder how pregnancy goes.  And maybe this little Spirit was willing to sacrifice himself, in order to allow other Spirits on this earth.  Maybe he sacrificed his earthly life, to pave the way, to make it more possible for more Spirit children to come into this world through me and Thomas.  A valiant little warrior, that made his way through my treacherous Fallopian tube.  Random question, but have you ever been sledding?  I am from Utah, my winters were spent sledding, on every hill we could find, big or small.  But as any veteran sledder (pretty sure that isn't a word) knows after a good snow, and you go sledding, the first few times down the hill aren't really fun. 

(I'm such a nerd in this picture)

It is hard to make your way down the hill, you have to break the snow down, forge a brand new trail, so that the next time you go down, it is smoother sailing (or smoother sledding, rather), and the next and the next.  Someone has to forge the trail, someone has to break it in, someone has to lead the way.  And maybe this someone, was my precious little miracle, forging the way for possible future spirit children to find their way down that hill (my fallopian tube).  And maybe, my little baby was such a valiant Spirit in heaven, that he was being protected from this earth life, he had a greater mission to do on the other side of the veil.  All I know, is that no matter how painful it has been, I am truly grateful to have seen that there was in fact a baby in me, and that even though I didn't hear it, I saw his flickering beat of a heart.  It gave me comfort to know, that I did have a baby in there.  It wasn't a fluke thing, like an unfertilized egg, or some weird random molar pregnancy.  There was life in me, living....and even though that does give me more grief and pain knowing this, it also gave me some peace. For that I am grateful.  I was able to host such a precious spirit in my body, even though it was just for a brief moment in time, I will cherish that.

          And here I am now, left to pick up all these pieces.  To gain some kind of peace about it all.  To accept it.  I have since returned to my knees, but a lot of my prayers feel empty, because of me. And I need to work on that.  I need to really show to my Heavenly Father that I do trust Him.  I've searched for some solace. I'm trying to make sense of everything, if there is any sense to be made of it.   I was reading a talk by President Dieter F. Uchdorf, called "Grateful in Any Circumstances" a month or so ago.  There is a part in it that really struck me, and has since stuck with me, and I find it very fitting to my current situation. This is the part:

"We Are Not Made for Endings
In light of what we know about our eternal destiny, is it any wonder that whenever we face the bitter endings of life, they seem unacceptable to us? There seems to be something inside of us that resists endings.
Why is this? Because we are made of the stuff of eternity. We are eternal beings, children of the Almighty God, whose name is Endless and who promises eternal blessings without number. Endings are not our destiny.
The more we learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ, the more we realize that endings here in mortality are not endings at all. They are merely interruptions—temporary pauses that one day will seem small compared to the eternal joy awaiting the faithful.
How grateful I am to my Heavenly Father that in His plan there are no true endings, only everlasting beginnings."

  What an awesome truth this truly is. As I was cleaning the kitchen the other day, I had my iPod playing, a song came on by Christina Perri, it touched me and ties in with that quote, it is called: 

"I Believe"

I believe if I knew where I was going I’d lose my way
I believe that the words that he told you are not your grave
I know that we are not the weight of all our memories
I believe in the things that I am afraid to say

Hold on, hold on

I believe in the lost possibilities you can't see
And I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be
I know that your heart is still beating, beating, darling
I believe that you fell so you would land next to me

‘Cause I have been where you are before
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive

I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday
And I believe that your head is the only thing in your way
I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty
I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay

Hold on, hold on

‘Cause I have been where you are before
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive

This is not the end of me, this is the beginning
(Hold on)
This is not the end of me, this is the beginning
(Hold on)
This is not the end of me, this is the beginning
(Hold on (I am still alive))
This is not the end of me, this is the beginning

I hope that is true, I really want to believe that this is just the beginning.